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COPYRIGHT, 1907 
By 

The Saalfield Publishing Company 





It was a most beautiful sight, 

that city. . . Frontispiece 

broad band of moonlight 
streamed in at the open 


He picked up a large knotted pole for a cane. . . 82 y 


Two giants stood triumphantly grinning down upon 

twenty pygmies 134 ^ 

Bob and his comrade went straight to the mayor’s 

office 160 


“If you’re rested now, we’ll resume our sightsee- 
ing.” ...... 176 ^ 


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CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Midnight Visit from the Little Green Goblin . . 9 

II. Bob Becomes an Aeronaut 23 

III. Through a Storm in a Balloon 43 

IV. In Danger of the Sea 37 

V. In which Bob Becomes a Giant 71 

VI. Lost in the Desert 87 

VII. Fitz Mee Magnetizes the Spring 101 

VIII. The Balloonists Encounter Arabs 117 

IX. A Wireless Message to Headquarters 13 1 

X. Arrived in Goblinland 143 

XI. In the Land where You Do as You Please .... 139 

XII. Before the Mayor of Goblinland ....... 173 






CHAPTER I 

A MIDNIGHT VISIT FROM THE LITTLE GREEN GOBLIN 

ITT LE Bob Taylor was mad, discouraged, and 
thoroughly miserable. Things had gone wrong 
— as things have the perverse habit of doing with 
mischievous, fun-loving boys of ten — and he was 
disgruntled, disgusted. The school year draw- 
ing to a close had been one of dreary drudgery; 
at least that was the retrospective view he took of it. And warm, 
sunshiny weather had come — the season for outdoor sports and va- 
grant rambles — and the end was not yet. Still he was a galley slave 
in the gilded barge of modern education; and open and desperate 
rebellion was in his heart. 

One lesson was not disposed of before another intrusively pre- 
sented itself, and tasks at home multiplied with a fecundity rivaling 
that of the evils of Pandora’s box. Yes, Bob was all out of sorts. 
School was a bore; tasks at home were a botheration, and life was a 
frank failure. He knew it; and what he knew he knew. 

He had come from school on this particular day in an irritable, 
surly mood, to find that the lawn needed mowing, that the flower- 

9 



The Little Green Goblin 



beds needed weeding, — and just when he desired to steal away upon 
the wooded hillside back of the house and make buckeye whistles! 
He had demurred, grumbled and growled, and his father had re- 
buked him. Then 
he had complained 
of a headache, and 
his mother had 
given him a pill — a 
pill! think of it — 
and sent him off to 
bed. 

So here he was, 
tossing upon his own 
little bed in his own 
little room at the back 
of the house. It was 
twilight. The window 
was open, and the sweet fra- 
£j>.ojr. grance of the honeysuckle flow- 
ers floated in to him. Birds 
were chirping and twittering as they settled themselves to rest 
among the sheltering boughs of the wild cherry tree just without, 
and the sounds of laughter and song came from the rooms beneath, 


io 


The Little Green Goblin 


where the other members of the family were making merry. Bob 
was hurt, grieved. Was there such a thing as justice in the whole 
world? He doubted it! And he wriggled and squirmed from one 
side of the bed to the other, kicked the footboard and dug his fists 
into the pillows — burning with anger and consuming with self-pity. 
At last the gathering storm of his contending emotions culminated 
in a downpour of tears, and weeping, he fell asleep. 

“Hello! Hello, Bob! Hello, Bob Taylor!” 

Bob popped up in bed, threw off the light coverings and stared 
about him. A broad band of moonlight streamed in at the open 
window, making the room almost as light as day. Not a sound was 
to be heard. The youngster peered into the shadowy corners and 
out into the black hallway, straining his ears. The clock down 
stairs struck ten deliberate, measured strokes. 

“I thought I heard somebody calling me,” the lad muttered; 
“I must have been dreaming.” 

He dropped back upon his pillows and closed his eyes. 

“Hello, Bob!” 

The boy again sprang to a sitting posture, as quick as a jack- 
in-a-box, his eyes and mouth wide open. He was startled, a little 
frightened. 

“Hel — hello yourself!” he quavered. 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I’m helloing you,” the voice replied. “I’ve no need to hello 
myself; I’m awake.” 

Bob looked all around, but could not locate the speaker. 

“I’m awake, too,” he muttered; “at least I guess I am.” 

“Yes, you’re awake all right enough now,” the voice said; “but 
I nearly yelled a lung loose getting you awake.” 

“Well, where are you?” the boy cried. 

A hoarse, rasping chuckle was the answer, apparently coming 
from the open window. Bob turned his eyes in that direction and 
blinked and stared, and blinked again; for there upon the sill, dis- 
tinctly visible in the streaming white moonlight, stood the oddest, 
most grotesque figure the boy had ever beheld. Was it a dwarfed 
and deformed bit of humanity, or a gigantic frog masquerading in 
the garb of a man? Bob could not tell; so he ventured the very 
natural query: 

“What are you?” 

“I’m a goblin,” his nocturnal visitor made reply, in a harsh stri- 
dent, parrot-like voice. 

“A goblin?” Bob questioned. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, what’s a goblin?” 

“Don’t you know?” in evident surprise. 

“No.” 


12 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Why, boy — boy! Your education has been sadly amiss.” 

“I know it,” Bob replied with unction, his school grievances 
returning in full force to his mind. “But what is a goblin? Any- 
thing like a gobbler?” 

“Stuff!” his visitor exclaimed in a tone of deep disgust. “Any- 
thing like a gobbler! Bob, you ought to be ashamed. Do I look 
anything like a turkey?” 

“No, you look like a frog,” the boy laughed. 

“Shut up!” the goblin croaked. 

“I won’t!” snapped the boy. 

“Look here!” cried the goblin. “Surely you know what goblins 
are. You’ve read of ’em — you’ve seen their pictures in books, 
haven’t you?” 

“I think I have,” Bob said reflectively, “but I don’t know just 
what they are.” 

“You know what a man is, don’t you?” the goblin queried. 

“Of course.” 

“Well, what is a man?” 

“Huh?” the lad cried sharply. 

“What is a man?” 

“Why, a man’s a — a— a man " Bob answered, lamely. 

“Good — very good;” the goblin chuckled, interlocking his slim 
fingers over his protuberant abdomen and rocking himself to and 

13 


The Little Green Goblin 


fro upon his slender legs. “I see your schooling’s done you some 
good. Yes, a man’s a man, and a goblin’s a goblin. Understand? 
It’s all as clear as muddy water, when you think it over. Hey?” 

“You explain things just like my teacher does,” the boy mut- 
tered peevishly. 

“How’s that?” the goblin inquired, seating himself upon the 
sill and drawing his knees up to his chin. 

“Why, when we ask him a question, he asks us one in return; 
and when we answer it, he tangles us all up and leaves us that 
way.” 

“Does he?” the goblin grinned. 

“Yes, he does,” sullenly. 

“He must be a good teacher.” 

“He is good — good for nothing,” snappishly. 

The goblin hugged his slim shanks and laughed silently. He 
was a diminutive fellow, not more than a foot in height. His head 
was large; his body was pursy. A pair of big, waggling ears, a 
broad, flat nose, two small, pop eyes and a wide mouth made up his 
features. His dress consisted of a brimless, peaked cap, cutaway 
coat, long waistcoat, tight fitting trousers and a pair of tiny shoes — 
all of a vivid green color. His was indeed an uncouth and aueer 
figure! 

“Say!” Bob cried, suddenly. 

14 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“Huh?” the goblin ejaculated, throwing back his head and 
nimbly scratching his chin with the toe of his shoe. 

“What are you called?” 

“Sometimes I’m called the Little Green Goblin of Goblinville.” 
“Oh!” 

“Yes.” 

“But what’s your name?” 

“Fitz” 

“Fitz?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fitz what?” 

“Fitz Mee.” 

“Fits you?” laughed Bob. “I guess it does.” 

“No!” rasped the goblin. “Not Fitz Hugh; Fitz Mee.” 
“That’s what I said,” giggled the boy, “fits you.” 

“I know you did; but I didn’t. I said Fitz Mee.” 

“I can’t see the difference,” said Bob, with a puzzled shake of 
the head. 

“Oh, you can’t!” sneered the goblin. 

“No, I can’t!” — bristling pugnaciously. 

“Huh!” — contemptuously — “I say my name is Fitz Mee; you 
say it is Fitz Hugh; and you can’t see the difference, hey?” 

“Oh, that’s what you mean — that your name is Fitz Mee,” 
grinned Bob. 


15 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Of course it’s what I mean,” the goblin muttered gratingly; 
“it’s what I said; and a goblin always says what he means and means 
what he says.” 

“Where’s your home?” the boy ventured to inquire. 

“In Goblinville,” was the crisp reply. 

“Goblinville?” - 

“Yes; the capital of Goblinland.” 

“And where’s that?” 

“A long distance east or a long distance west.” 

“Well, which?” 

“Either or both.” 

“Oh, that can’t be!” Bob cried. 

“It can’t?” 

“Why, no.” 

“Why can’t it?” 

“The place can’t be east and west both — from here.” 

“But it can, and it is,” the goblin insisted. 

“Is that so?” — in profound wonder. 

“Yes; it’s on the opposite side of the globe.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

The goblin nodded, batting his pop eyes. 

“Well, what are you doing here?” Bob pursued. 

“Talking to you,” grinned \the goblin. 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“I know that,” the lad grumbled irritably. “But what brought 
you here?” 

“A balloon.” 

“Oh, pshaw! What did you come here for?” 

“For you.” 

“For me?” 

“Yes ; you don’t like to live in this country, and I’ve come to take 
you to a better one.” 

“To Goblinland?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is that a better country than this — for boys?” 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“In what way is it better?” Bob demanded, shrewdly. “Tell me 
about it.” 

“Well,” the goblin went on to explain, unclasping his hands and 
stretching his slender legs full length upon the window-sill, “in 
your country a boy isn’t permitted to do what pleases him, but is 
compelled to do what pleases others. Isn’t that so?” 

“Yes, it is,” the lad muttered. 

“But in our land,” the goblin continued, “a boy isn’t permitted 
to do what pleases others , but is compelled to do what pleases him- 
self r 


17 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Oh!” ejaculated Bob, surprised and pleased. “That’s great. 
I’d like to live in Goblinland.” 

“Of course you would,” said the goblin, placing a finger along- 
side of his flat nose and winking a pop eye. “Your parents and your 
teacher don’t know how to treat you — don’t appreciate you; they 
don’t understand boys. You’d better come along with me.” 

“I’ve a notion to,” Bob replied thoughtfully. Then, abruptly: 
“But how did you find out about me, that I was dissatisfied with 
things here?” 

“Oh, we know everything that’s going on,” the goblin grinned; 
“we get wireless telephone messages from all over the world. 
Whenever anybody says anything — or thinks anything, even — we 
learn of it; and if they’re in trouble some one of us good little goblins 
sets off to help them.” 

“Why, how good of you!” Bob murmured, in sincere admira- 
tion. “You chaps are a bully lot!” 

“Yes, indeed,” the goblin giggled; “we’re a good-hearted lot — 
w are. Oh, you’ll just love and worship us when you learn all 
about us!” 

And the little green sprite almost choked with some suppressed 
emotion. 

“I’m going with you,” the boy said, with sudden decision. 
“Will your balloon carry two, though?” 

18 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


“We can manage that,” said the goblin. “Come here to the 
window and take a squint at my aerial vehicle.” 

Bob crawled to the foot of the bed and peeped out the window. 
There hung the gob- 
lin’s balloon, anchored 
to the window-sill by 
means of a rope and 
hook. The bag looked 
like a big fat feather bed, 
and the car resembled a 
large willow clothes-bas- 
ket. The boy was sur- 
prised, and not a little dis- 
appointed. 

“And you came here in that 
thing?” he asked, unable to conceal 
the contempt he felt for the prima- 
tive and clumsy-looking contraption. 

“Of course I did,” Fitz Mee 
made answer. 

“And how did you get from the 
basket to the window here?” 

“Slid down the anchor-rope. 



19 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Oh!” Bob gave an understanding nod. “And you’re going to 
climb the rope, when you go?” 

“Yes; can you climb it?” 

“Why, I — I could climb it,” Bob replied, slowly shaking his 
head; “but I’m not going to.” 

“You’re not?” cried the goblin. 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“I’m not going to risk my life in any such a balloon as that. It 
looks like an old feather bed.” 

“It is a feather bed,” Fitz answered, complacently. 

“What!” 

The goblin nodded sagely. 

“Whee!” the lad whistled. “You don’t mean what you say, do 
you? You mean it’s a bed tick filled with gas, don’t you?” 

“I mean just what I say,” Fitz Mee replied, positively. “That 
balloon bag is a feather bed.” 

“But a feather bed won’t float in the air,” Bob objected. 

“Won’t it?” leered the goblin. 

“No.” 

“How do you know? Did you ever try one to see?” 

“N— o.” 


20 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“Well, one feather, a downy feather, will fly in the air, and 
carry its own weight and a little more, won’t it?” 

“Yes,” the lad admitted, wondering what the goblin was driv- 
ing at. 

“Then won’t thousands of feathers confined in a bag fly higher 
and lift more than one feather alone will?” 

“No,” positively. 

“Tut — tut!” snapped the goblin. “You don’t know anything of 
the law of physics, it appears. Won’t a thousand volumes of gas 
confined in a bag fly higher and lift more than one volume uncon- 
fined will?” 

“Why, of course,” irritably. 

“Well!” — triumphantly, — “don’t the same law apply to feathers? 
Say!” 

“I — I don’t know,” Bob stammered, puzzled but unconvinced. 

“To be sure it does,” the goblin continued, smoothly. “I know; 
I’ve tried it. And you can see for yourself that my balloon’s a suc- 
cess.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t carry me,” Bob objected; “I’m too heavy.” 

“I’ll have to shrink you,” Fitz Mee said quietly. 

“Shrink me?” drawing back in alarm bordering on consterna- 
tion. 

“Yes; it won’t hurt you.” 


21 


The Little Green Goblin 


“How — how’re you going to do it?” 

“I’ll show you.” 

The goblin got upon his feet, took a small bottle from his 
waistcoat pocket and deliberately unscrewed the top and shook out 
a tiny tablet. 

“There,” he said, “take that.” 

“Uk-uh!” grunted Bob, compressing his lips and shaking his 
head. “I don’t like to take pills.” 

“This isn’t a pill,” Fitz explained, “it’s a tablet.” 

“It’s all the same,” the boy declared obstinately. 

“Won’t you take it?” 

“No.” 

“Then you can’t go with me.” 

“I can’t?” 

The goblin shook his head. 

“Isn’t there some other way. you can — can shrink me?” 

Again Fitz Mee silently shook his head. 

“W-e-11,” Bob said slowly and reluctantly, “I’ll take it. But, 
say?” 

“Well?” 

“What’ll it do to me — just make me smaller?” 

“That’s all.” 

“How small will it make me?” 


22 


The Little Green Goblin 


“About my size,” grinned the goblin. 

“Oo — h!” ejaculated Bob. “And will it make me as — as ugly 
as you are?” in grave concern. 

The goblin clapped his hands over his stomach, wriggled this 
way and that and laughed till the tears ran down his fat cheeks. 

“Oh — ho!” he gasped at last. “So you think me ugly, do you?” 

“Yes, I do,” the lad admitted candidly, a little nettled. 

“Well, that’s funny,” gurgled the goblin; “for that’s what I 
think of you. So you see the matter of looks is a matter of taste.” 

“Huh!” Bob snorted contemptuously. “But will that tablet 
change my looks? That’s what I want to know.” 

“No, it won’t,” was the reassuring reply. 

“And will I always be small — like you?” 

“Look here!” Fitz Mee croaked hoarsely. “If you’re going 
with me, stop asking fool questions and take this tablet.” 

“Give it to me,” Bob muttered, in sheer desperation. 

And he snatched the tablet and swallowed it. 

Immediately he shrunk to the size of the goblin. 

“My!” he cried. “It feels funny to be so little and light.” 

Fie sprang from the bed to the window-sill, and anticly danced 
a jig in his night garment. 

“Get into your clothes,” the goblin commanded, “and let’s be 

off.” 


23 


The Little Green Goblin 


Bob nimbly leaped to the floor, tore off his night-robe and 
caught up his trousers. Then he paused, a look of comical conster- 
nation upon his apple face. 

“What’s the matter?” giggled the goblin. 

“Why — why,” the boy gasped, his mouth wide open, “my clothes 
are all a mile too big for me!” 

Fitz Mee threw himself prone upon his stomach, pummeled 
and kicked the window-sill, and laughed uproariously. 


24 


CHAPTER II 

BOB BECOMES AN AERONAUT 



OU stop that, you mean old thing!” Bob 
blustered angrily. 


“Stop it, I say!” the boy shouted, loud 
enough to waken all the sleepers about the 
house, he thought. 


The goblin laughed the harder. 


The goblin continued to laugh and rub his fists and kick his 
heels. 

“Oh, you think you’re smart!” the lad pouted, tears in his eyes, 
his lips quivering. “Old Fits! Old Spasms! Old Convulsions! 
Yeah! Yeah!” 

“Here — here!” cried the goblin, springing to his feet and frown- 
ing darkly. “You mustn’t call me such names, boy.” 

“I will!” sturdily. 

“If you do, I’ll go away and leave you, just as you are.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“You don’t?” 

“No, I don’t.” 


2 ? 


The Little Green Goblin 


“What’re you mad about?” 

“You played a mean trick on me, and then laughed at me — 
that’s what.” 

“I didn’t play any trick on you.” 

“You did, too. You coaxed me to take that pill.” 

“Tablet, you mean.” 

“Well, tablet. What’s the difference?” 

“I persuaded you to take it.” 

“It’s all the same.” 

“And I forgot you didn’t have your clothes on. Now you’ll 
have to put ’em on and take another tablet to shrink them.” 

“I won’t take it.” 

“Why won’t you? 

“’Cause I won’t — that’s why. Think I want to live on pills? 
I don’t like ’em.” 

“Are you afraid to take it?” 

“No, I — I’m not. But it wouldn’t shrink my clothes, if I did 
take it.” 

“Yes, it will. Look at your night-gown.” 

Bob picked up his discarded night-robe and closely examined 
it. It was not larger than a doll’s dress. The lad grinned sheep- 
ishly, and began to hustle into his garments. They were a world 
too large for him, and hung upon his shrunken limbs in a baggy and 

26 


The Little Green Goblin 

outlandish fashion. His shoes were ten sizes too big; his cap rested 
upon his shoulders. 

“Huh!” he muttered in disgust; “I look like a scarecrow.” 
“Here!” the goblin said, soberly. “Take another tablet.” 

Bob shook his head. 

“What’s the matter, now?” asked Fitz. 

“I’m afraid to take it,” the boy replied. 

“What’re you afraid of?” 

“I’m afraid it will shrink me all away to nothing.” 

“No, it won’t.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes. These are goblin tablets; gob-tabs we call ’em for short. 
They just shrink a person to goblin size; you can’t shrink any more. 
Take it now; it’ll just shrink your clothes.” 

“W-e-11, I — I don’t know; I can’t remain in this fix, though.” 
Then in sudden desperation: — “Give it to me; I’ll take it!” 

The lad swallowed the tablet. Barely had he done so, when 
his clothes shrank to fit him — skin tight. 

“Say!” he giggled gleefully, closely examining himself. 
“Those tablets are great.” 

“Sure!” winked the goblin. “Now are you ready to go?” 

“Why — why,” Bob faltered, “I’d like to bid my folks good-bye 
— especially mamma.” 


27 


The Little Green Goblin 


“You’re in nice shape to bid your folks good-bye, now, aren’t 
you?” sneered the goblin. 

“That’s so,” the boy muttered, sadly ‘shaking his head. “But 
I do hate to leave ’em without saying anything about it — especially 
mamma.” 

“Huh!” the goblin grunted, contemptuously. “You tell your 
mother of your intention and she won’t let you go.” 

“Yes, that’s so.” 

“Well, let’s be off; we’re losing too much time.” 

“I — I can come back sometime, can’t I?” 

“Pshaw;” snapped the goblin. “I guess you’re satisfied with 
things here and don’t want to go at all.” 

“Yes, I do want to go.” 

“Well, come on then — and no more fooling. I’ll be a good 
comrade to you; we’ll have lots of fun. I’ll call you Bob and you’ll 
call me Fitz. Oh, we’ll have a bully time!” 

“All right!” the lad cried courageously. “I’m ready.” 

“That’s the stuff!” chuckled the goblin. 

They leaped upon the window-sill. Fitz Mee caught the an- 
chor rope and shinned up it, and Bob nimbly followed. 

As the lad clambered into the basket he remarked: 

“Your balloon’s bigger than I thought it was, Fitz.” 

“You’re smaller than you were, that’s all,” the goblin grinned 
in reply. 


28 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


The car was indeed quite roomy and comfortable for such small 
beings. A box-shaped bench encircled it on the inside, serving as 
seat and locker, and at one side was a small tank of polished metal, 
with a pump attachment. 

“What’s that thing?” the boy inquired, indicating the shining 
tank. 

“What thing?” asked Fitz Mee. 

“That shiny thing.” 

“Why, that’s my air-tank and pump.” 

“It looks just like the air machine papa has in his office,” Bob 
remarked. His father was a physician. “He uses his in treating 
people’s throats. What do you use yours for?” 

“Don’t you know?” queried the goblin in surprise. 

“No,” answered the boy. 

“Well well! It’s plain you never had anything to do with 

feather-bed ballooning. I use it in raising and lowering the bal- 
loon.” 

“In raising and lowering the balloon?” 

“Yes.” 

“Y r ou do?” 

“Certainly; that’s what I said.” 

“But how do you use it?” 


29 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I’ll show you in a minute/’ Fitz Mee answered complacently. 
“You know how they raise and lower gas balloons, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I — I guess so,” the boy replied, a little dubiously. “The 
gas raises ’em.” 

“Of course,” snapped the goblin, “that’s the lifting power, and 
feathers raise feather-bed balloons. But what do they use for ballast 
in gas balloons, eh?” 

“Sand bags,” Bob answered. 

“Yes,” the goblin pursued; “and when they want to go higher 
they throw out sand, don’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“And when they want to come down what do they do?” 

“Let the gas out of the bag,” Bob said at a venture. 

“That’s it,” Fitz Mee nodded. “And then they can’t go up 
again till they’ve refilled the bag — eh?” 

“I guess that’s the way of it.” 

“To be sure it is. Well, we work the thing better with our 
feather-bed balloons.” 

“We?” Bob cried. “Do all goblins use feather-bed balloons?” 

“Of course we do; that’s the way we travel. Didn’t you know 
that?” 

“No; I never heard of it.” 

“My— my!” Fitz Mee laughed. “You have a lot to learn, Bob. 

30 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

But I’ll show you how I can bring my balloon to earth or send it to 
the skies in a jiffy. When I wish to descend I just pump that tank 
full of compressed air. See?” 

“No, I don’t see,” Bob declared. 

“You don’t?” muttered the goblin, in surprise and irritation. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Why, compressed air’s heavier than ordinary air, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Well, then, when I get that tank full the balloon’s heavier; 
and the increased weight overcomes the buoyancy of the feathers, 
and down I come.” 

“Oh!” — in open-mouth admiration, — “that’s great! And when 
you want to go up again you just let the compressed air out, don’t 
you?” 

“Sure!” blinked the goblin. “I’ll show you.” 

He caught hold of the anchor rope, jerked the hook loose from 
the window-sill, and wound up the slender line. Then he flew to the 
air apparatus and turned a cock. Immediately there was the hiss 
of pent air escaping through a hole in the bottom of the tank, and the 
balloon began to ascend— slowly and gently at first, then more 
swiftly. 

When it was a short distance above the housetop Fitz Mee 
closed the cock, remarking: 


3 1 


The Little Green Goblin 


“There! I guess that’ll balance us about right. We’ll rise a few 
hundred feet and float there.” 

His prediction proved true. When the balloon had cleared the 
hilltops, it stopped rising and floated motionless, like a great bubble 
with a dripping blob at its pendant point. 

“Say!” Bob cried, suddenly. 

“Well?” said the goblin. 

“That tank looks just like the one papa has in his office.” 

“It is just like it,” the goblin assured him. 

“And the car looks just like mamma’s old clothes-basket.” 

“Yes.” 

“And the bag looks just like grandma’s old feather-bed.” 

The goblin nodded and winked and smiled. 

“Well,” Bob declared triumphantly, “I could take those things 
and make me a balloon.” 

“Of course you could,” grinned Fitz Mee, “if you were going 
to stay at home.” 

“And couldn’t I have fun showing off before the other boys!” 
Bob chuckled, gloatingly. 

“You’ll have lots more fun with me, in Goblinland,” his com- 
panion said quickly. 

“Maybe I will,” the boy murmured reflectively, a little sadly. 
Then observing that the balloon had stopped rising: 


32 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Why, what made us stop going up?” 

“Don’t you know?” the goblin returned with a half sneer. 

“No, I don’t,” the lad admitted. 

“Ho, ho!” Fitz Mee laughed. “You’re wonderfully dumb, you 
are, Roberty-Boberty.” 

Bob bristled instantly. 

“Don’t you call me names,” he cried angrily. “You old — old 
Epilepsy!” 

“Epilepsy!” the goblin cackled hoarsely, holding his sides and 
weaving to and fro. “What does that word mean?” 

“Fits,” the boy answered tersely. 

“Ho — ho!” the goblin continued to cackle. “You call me 
names, but you don’t want me to call you names. Say, Bob?” 

Bob made no reply. 

“Bob?” Fitz repeated in as pleasant a voice as he could com- 
mand. 

Bob maintained a stubborn silence. 

“Bob,” his companion went on, “the reason we stopped rising 
is because the weight of the balloon just balances an equal volume 
of air at this height. Understand?” 

“Yes,” the lad muttered rather grumpily. 

“All right, and if we wished to go higher — ” 

“We’d have to let out more of the compressed air,” Bob inter- 
rupted, brightly. 


33 


The Little Green Goblin 


“And if we desired to descend — ” 

“We’d have to pump more into the tank.” 

“Of course,” mumbled the goblin. “You’ll make a great 

aeronaut one of these 


days.” 

Then he lifted a lid 
of the locker, took out a 
small instrument and 
busied himself with the 
manipulation of its mech- 
anism. Bob leaned over 
the edge of the car and 
devoted his attention to 
the scene below. 

Directly beneath lay 
the sleeping village, its 
roofs showing white in 
the bright moonlight. 
To east and west the hills 
rolled away, their sum- 
mits hoary, their bases 
shadowy and obscure; 
and among them wound 



34 


The Little Green Goblin 


the placid river — a stream of molten silver threading the narrow 
vale. The roar of the distant mill-dam sounded sullen and indis- 
tinct, and the mists rising from it waved as fairy plumes and ban- 
ners. The lad looked and listened, entranced, enraptured. 

“How beautiful it all is!” he murmured feelingly to himself, a 
catch in his voice. “I — I like it; and I rather hate to leave it.” 

“Homesick already, are you, before you’re out of sight of 
home?” Fitz Mee queried, his eyes upon the curious instrument he 
had placed in the bottom of the car. 

“No, I’m not homesick!” Bob retorted sharply. 

“You’re not?” Fitz grinned provokingly. “What did you 
mean by your words, then?” 

“I was just admiring the beautiful scene, that’s all,” Bob ex- 
plained. 

“Oh!” ejaculated the goblin, wagging his head and saucily ex- 
truding his tongue. 

“Uh-huh,” the lad nodded in return. 

“Well, I’ll show you scenes far more beautiful — in Goblinland.” 

It was Bob’s turn to sneer. 

“ Maybe you will,” he said. 

“I will,” Fitz asserted positively. 

“When?” 

“When we get there, of course ” 

35 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Yes; when we get there.” 

“Well, we’ll get there.” 

“We’re not going very fast; we’re still right over the town.” 
And the boy laughed aloud, scornfully. 

“We haven’t started yet,” the goblin countered. 

“No; and we’re not likely to start, as far as I can see — unless a 
wind storm comes on; and it may blow us in any direction.” 

“Bosh!” barked the goblin. 

“Bosh, yourself!” snarled the boy. 

“Say, Bob?” 

“What?” 

“Let’s quit quarreling.” 

“All right.” 

“Shake!” 

They solemnly shook hands. 

“Now,” the goblin cried briskly, “if you’re ready to say good- 
bye to home, we’ll be off.” 

“I’m ready,” the lad answered; “but I don’t see how we’re going 
to be off.” 

“I’ll show you. See that little instrument on the floor of the 
car?” 

“That compass?” 

“That’s not a compass.” 

36 



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The Tittle Green Goblin 


“It isn’t?” 

“No.” 

“Well, it looks like one. What is it?” 

“A wireless selector.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“You’ve heard of wireless telegraph instruments?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you know they send messages with them without using 
wires, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then, too, you’ve heard or read that there are currents of 
electricity running around the globe in all directions, haven’t you?” 
“I — I think I have; yes.” 

“Well, the selector picks up or selects any current the operator 
desires, and enables him to travel over it in his balloon, using it as a 
propelling power.” 

“Well — well!” Bob exploded, in frank admiration. “Just like 
a trolley car !” 

“Yes, except no wire is needed.” 

“I don’t see how you tell which way it’ll go, though.” 

“The balloon?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’ll go whichever way the needle points.” 

37 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Why will it?” 

“Well, the needle of a compass points north, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes.” • 

“Why does it?” 

“Because — because — I don’t know, I guess,” Bob admitted. 

“Because the attraction swings it, isn’t that it?” 

“I suppose so.” 

“Well, if the attraction swings the needle, won’t the needle swing 
the attraction?” 

“I — I don’t know,” the boy stammered; “I never heard of such 
a thing!” 

“Isn’t it a poor rule that won’t work both ways?” 

“Yes; that’s what folks say, anyhow.” 

“Well, it is — a mighty poor rule. Now I’ll show you. Watch 
me. I desire to travel due east; so I point this little needle in 
that direction. That done, I turn this thumb-screw, and off we 
start.” 

Slowly the balloon began to move toward the east, over the vil- 
lage, across the river, gradually leaving the valley behind. 

“I turn the screw a little more and a little more,” said the gob- 
lin, suiting the action to the words, “and we begin to travel faster 
and faster.” 

Soon they were going at a rapid and exhilarating speed. The 


38 


The Little Green Goblin 


air appeared to whistle past as they cut through it; the moonlit land- 
scape appeared to flow away behind and beneath them. 

“My — my!” Bob cried, gleefully clapping his hands. “I never 
expected to travel as fast as this. Fitz, this is simply great.” 

“You don’t call this gentle speed going fast, do you, Bob?” Fitz 
returned, grinning broadly. 

“Indeed I do,” the boy replied earnestly. 

“Oh, we’re just loafing along!” the goblin chuckled. “I’ll show 
you how I travel when I’m in a hurry to get along. Take off your 
cap, or you’ll lose it, and hold on to the car. Now!” 

With the last word he gave another turn to the thumb-screw of 
the selector. The balloon leaped forward like a mad thing of life; 
the fragile car strained and quivered. Bob clutched the seat with 
both hands and held on for dear life. The air appeared to rush 
past in a cutting, shrieking tempest of wrath, that blinded and deaf- 
ened the boy. He tried to scream out, but could not. He felt his 
grip upon the seat weakening, and, fearing he might be swept over- 
board, he loosened his hold and threw himself to the bottom of the 
car. There he lay, panting and gasping — sick with mortal terror. 
Then, of a sudden, the mad speed of the balloon began to slacken 
and the boy gradually gathered up courage to open his eyes and 
look around. 

There sat the impish Fitz Mee by the selector, his hand upon 
the thumb-screw. 


39 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Hello!” the goblin grinned apishly. 

“Hello!” the boy muttered in reply. 

“How did you like it?” queried the goblin. 

“I didn’t like it,” answered the lad. 

“Wasn’t it fast enough for you?” 

“Too fast.” 

“Oh!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to try it just a little bit faster, eh?” 

“No sir ! n 

“It’s great fun — when you learn to like it.” 

“Yes,” Boh grumbled; “and taking pills is great fun — when you 
learn to like ’em.” 

“I can make the balloon go faster,” Fitz suggested. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Bob grinned, shaking his head. 
They got up and seated themselves upon the locker. 

“Well,” the goblin remarked, yawning, “what do you think of 
us goblins as balloonists?” 

“I think you’re the candy,” Bob replied, his voice and manner 
evincing profound admiration. 

“The candy?” snickered his companion. “What do you mean 
by that?” 

“I think you’re the best ever.” 


40 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Oh! Better than you humans, eh?” 

“Far better.” 

“That so?” 

“Yes, indeed. And when I come back from Goblinland, I’m go- 
ing to get patents on your air-ballast machine and your wireless 
selector; and some day I’ll be a mighty rich man — a millionaire.” 

The goblin grinned a very broad grin. 

“You’re going to take out patents on our inventions, you say, 
Bob?” he remarked. 

“Yes,” the boy made reply. 

“When you return from Goblinland, eh?” 

“Yes.” 

Fitz Mee gulped and screwed his features. Then he began to 
chuckle silently, and at last he burst out laughing. 

“What’s the matter?” Bob inquired, half in wonder, half in 
pique. 

“Oh, it’s so funny,” croaked the goblin, and he went into another 
spasm of rasping, cackling laughter. 

“It must be funny,” the boy grunted peevishly. “But what’s so 
funny?” 

“The thought of your returning from Goblinland, Bob,” Fitz 
Mee replied, sobering and wiping his eyes. 

“Why, can’t I return — if I ever want to?” 

4i 


The Little Green Goblin 


“You can, I suppose; but I doubt if you ever 
will.” 

“Why?” 

“Oh, ’cause.” 

“Well, ’cause what?” 

“You won’t want to, 
after you’ve been there a 
day or two.” 

“That’s it, eh?” 

The goblin nodded and winked serio- 
comically, mysteriously. Then he said: 

“Now we’ve got to ascend a few thousand feet to clear the tops of 
the Alleghany mountains. Let a little more air out of the tank. 
There — that’s enough. It’ll be quite cool at the altitude to which 
we’ll rise, so we’d better put on the fur coats that are in the locker 
under you, Bob, and curl down in the car and snooze awhile.” 

A few minutes later the two were asleep and the feather-bed 
balloon was topping the Alleghanies. 



42 


CHAPTER III 
THROUGH A STORM IN A BALLOON 



N awaking Bob was a little confused. But soon 
he remembered where he was, and he sat up 
and blinked and looked around for his com- 
panion. Fitz Mee stood upon the locker, a 
tiny binocular glued to his pop eyes, gazing 
intently at the western horizon. It was gray 
daylight, and they were making good speed. 

“What’s the matter, Fitz?” Bob demanded, alert and interested 
at once. “What’re you looking at?” 

“Looking at a storm gathering,” the goblin replied, without 
turning his head. 

The boy rose to his feet, removed his fur coat, and wadded it 
into a ball and stuffed it into the locker. 

“Storm?” he said. “I don’t see any signs of a storm.” 

“Don’t you see that blue line along the horizon?” Fitz asked. 

“Yes. Is that the storm?” 

“No; that’s the mountains we crossed. But take this glass and 
you can see the storm gathering on their tops. See it?” 

4.1 


The Little Green Goblin 


“My!” Bob exclaimed, the glass to his eyes. “I guess I do see 
it! It’s a black one, too; and it’s moving this way. How soon will 
it overtake us?” 

This question he asked in some trepidation. 

“It won’t overtake us at all, unless we care to have it do so,” 
the goblin made answer. 

“Why, can we outrun it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Sure?” 

“Sure, if we want to.” 

“Well, we’ll want to, won’t we?” 

“It’ll be fun to wait till it’s nearly upon us and then run away 
from it, I think. Don’t you?” 

“I — I don’t know,” Bob returned, dubiously shaking his head, 
his gaze still riveted upon the rising storm; “it might not be fun.” 

“You’re afraid,” sneered the goblin. 

“No, I’m— I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are; you’re a coward.” 

“Don’t you call me that!” the lad cried, snatching the binocu- 
lar from his eyes and angrily turning upon his companion. 

“I won’t,” the goblin promised. “Now turn your glass toward 
the east. What do you see?” 

“I see the sea!” Bob cried rapturously. 


44 


The Little Green Goblin 


* It’s plain to me as plain can be — 
In fact, I see you see the sea,” 


hummed Fitz Mee in sing-song. 

“If you’ll take a glance at 
you’ll notice we’re moving 
ing — waiting for the storm to 
we’ll have a race with it, 

In the meantime we’ll 
“Breakfast?” Bob 
breakfast coming 
“From the locker,” 
bing his round little belly 
in anticipatory gusto, “where 
need’ll come from. I 
stored for a long voyage, for 
on business, I never know 
again. Are you hungry?” 

“You bet!” was the 
elegant rejoinder. hoot 
“W ell, what do you 
morning? You can have whatever you require.” 

“What do I think I need?” Bob tittered. “What a question! 
I need breakfast, of course, Fitz.” 

45 



Then he continued: 

the ground beneath us, 
very slowly. I’m loiter- 
catch up with us; then 
out across the ocean, 
have breakfast.” 
questioned. “Where’s 
from?” 

smiled the goblin, rub- 
and smacking his lips 
everything else we 
always keep my airship 
when I leave Goblinland 
when I’ll get back home 

lad’s expressive but in- 
think you need this 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Of course,” snapped the goblin. “But do you need muscle 
food, or nerve food, or fat food, or what?” 

“I — I don’t know,” stammered the boy, scratching his head in 
perplexity. “I never heard of such things, I guess. I know what 
I’d like, though; I’d like steak and gravy and hot biscuits, and some 
fruit and a glass of milk.” 

“Huh!” the goblin snorted in supreme contempt. “You’ll find, 
Bob, we don’t indulge in such indigestible truck in Goblinland. 
Our foods are scientifically prepared, not slapped together haphaz- 
ard. We use nothing but the concentrated extracts — the active prin- 
cipals of food stuffs. I’ll show you.” 

He went to the locker and brought forth a small leather hand- 
case or satchel. 

“Why — why,” Bob muttered, his eyes bulging, “that looks just 
like papa’s medicine-case!” 

“Well, it isn’t,” Fitz Mee grunted irritably; “it’s my portable 
pantry.” 

And he loosened the catch and flung the case open, displaying 
several rows of tiny bottles containing tablets and pellets of various 
shapes, sizes and colors. 

“Ugh!” the boy gagged. “Pills!” 

“They’re not pills,” rasped the goblin; “they’re food tablets 
and drink pellets.” 


46 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


“They’re pills to me, all the same.” 

“They’re not pills, I tell you,” Fitz Mee reiterated sharply, 
snapping his jaws shut and angrily grating his teeth. “Now I’ll 
select what you’re to eat; and you’ll eat it. The storm’s approaching 
rapidly; I hear the thunder muttering and see the black clouds roll- 
ing. So you’ll need something to make you strong and courageous. 
Here’s a tiger-muscle tablet and a lion-heart tablet. Down ’em.” 

Bob shut his mouth and shook his head. 

“Down ’em!” the goblin repeated. 

“Uk-uh!” the lad grunted. 

“You must!” 

“I won’t!” 

“You’ll starve if you don’t eat.” 

“I’d rather starve than take pills.” 

“Nonsense!” 

“I would!” 

“It won’t take you but a second to swallow ’em, Bob,” Fitz 
Mee said coaxingly. “That’s one of the advantages of our kind of 
food; it don’t take long to eat a meal.” 

“I never begrudged the time I spent in eating,” Bob remarked, 
with rather a sickly grin. 

“Well, down the tablets— that’s a good boy.” 

“Are those — those things all you’ve got to eat?” 

47 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Yes.” 

“And don’t you have anything else in Goblinland?” 

“No, of course not.” 

“Oh, dear !” wailed the boy. “I wish I was back home ! Noth- 
ing to eat but pills! Golly!” 

“There, there, Bob!” the goblin said soothingly, kindly even. 
“You don’t wish you were back home; you’re just hungry and ner- 
vous. Take these tablets and you’ll be all right in a jiffy.” 

Bob silently held out his hand, his face a picture of lugubrious 
woe, and silently took the tablets and swallowed them. 

Fitz Mee idly fingered the tiny bottles in the case for a minute 
or two, mumbling over the names upon the labels. Then he looked 
up and asked: 

“Feel better, Bob?” 

“Yes,” the lad admitted rather reluctantly, “I feel stronger and 
better, but I’m still awful empty.” 

“But you’re not hungry?” 

“No; just hollow-like.” 

“That’s because you’ve been used to filling your stomach with 
gross food,” the goblin stated sagely; “you’ll get over that condition 
after you’ve lived on tablets and pellets a month or two.” 

“A month or two!” the lad groaned. “Oh, dear!” 


48 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“You haven’t had anything to drink,” Fitz remarked, smiling 
brightly. “Take this pellet.” 

“What is it?” 

“A water pellet. It contains a pint of water.” 

“That teenty-weenty thing?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, nonsense!” 

“It does.” 

“I don’t believe it; it can’t.” 

“You down it and you’ll soon see.” 

Bob took the tiny clear pellet and instantly announced: 

“My thirst’s all gone, Fitz, and I feel fuller.” 

“But you’re still a little lank — a little empty-like, eh?” 

“A little, yes.” 

“Well, I’ll fix you. Take this.” 

“Oh, stop,” the boy demurred. “I’m not going to take all 
the pills in that case.” 

“This is the last dose I’ll ask you to take,” the goblin returned, 
batting his eyes at a bright flash of lightning from the rapidly ap- 
proaching storm. 

“Well, what is it?” Bob demanded, dodging the sharp clap of 
thunder almost immediately following the lightning. 

“A sponge tablet.” 


49 


The Little Green Goblin 


“What’s it for?” 

“It’s to absorb some of the water you’ve taken, and to swell 
and fill your stomach.” 

“I don’t want it — I don’t need it,” Bob said, decidedly shaking 
his head. 

“All right,” Fitz laughed, “you don’t have to take it. We just 
make ’em for folks who aren’t satisfied unless their stomachs are full 
all the time. Now I’ll eat my breakfast.” 

He hastily selected and swallowed a number of tablets and 
pellets; then he closed the leather case with a bang and a snap and 
thrust it into the locker. 

“Now,” he smiled, “I guess we’re all ready to play tag with that 
tempest. And we’ll show it a thing or two — oh, wont we!” 

“Maybe it’ll show us a thing or two,” Bob replied, grinning a 
sickly grin and shaking his head dubiously. “It’s getting pretty 
close and I don’t like the looks of it. My! Just see those clouds 
rolling and whirling! Fitz, I believe it’s a cyclone!” 

“No, it isn’t,” his companion muttered contemptuously; “it’s 
nothing but a summer thunder gust.” 

By this time the storm was close upon them, coming swiftly. 
The lightning was forking and flashing incessantly; the thunder was 
crackling and crashing continuously. Bob gazed at the rolling, 
tumbling masses of black clouds, at the play of electricity, and the 

50 


The Little Green Goblin 


forest and fruit trees bending before the blast, and shivered; he 
listened to the mingled, indescribable uproar of booming thunder and 
bellowing wind, and shuddered. 

“Oh, let’s be off, Fitz!” he pleaded. 

“We’re off!” his comrade cried, giving a half turn to the thumb- 
screw of the selector. 

Before the raging storm they sped, the boy frightened and mis- 
erable, the goblin elated and jubilant. Rapidly they approached 
the ocean, and soon they were sailing over a city on the shore. Bin- 
ocular in hand, Bob watched the storm behind and the earth beneath, 
and trembled. He saw people rushing to shelter; saw fences 
and groves leveled, and skyscrapers and steeples sent crashing to 
earth. 

“Oh, Fitz — Fitz!” the lad groaned. “It is a cyclone!” 

“I guess it is,” the goblin answered nonchalantly. 

“And it’s coming closer!” the boy cried in terror. “Let’s go 
faster!” 

“Oh, this is all right; this is fine sport,” the goblin laughed, 
capering about the car and gleefully rubbing his hands. 

Out over the ocean they flew — out of sight of land — out over 
the boundless expanse of heaving, tossing waters. After them raced 
the storm, each minute drawing a little nearer and a little nearer. It 
was almost upon them! 


Si 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Please, please let’s go faster, Fitz!” Bob screeched, dancing 
up and down in an ecstacy of keen affright. 

But his shrill cry was whirled away in the tumult of rushing 
air that enveloped them, and if the goblin 
heard, which is doubtful, he paid no atten- 
tion to his companion’s frantic plea. 
Then of a sudden the balloon stopped 
with a smart jerk and be- 
gan to whirl round and 
round d iz z i 1 y . Fitz 
Mee’s fat face went white 
as paper, and he let out a 
cry of alarm and dismay. 
“What’s the matter, Fitz?” 
Bob bawled, staggering to his 
comrade’s side and shouting in 
his ear. “What’s the matter?” 
“The lightning has magnet- 
ized the selector!” the goblin 
bellowed. “Look at 
~ the needle — pointing 
pSp - right back toward the 
storm! We’re drifting right 
back into it! There is nothing now to prevent it!” 

52 



The Little Green Goblin 

It was too true! 

Immediately they were engulfed — overwhelmed in the mael- 
strom of cloud and wind and rain. They could neither see nor hear 
for the fury of the elements. The balloon spun round and round 
like a top; the light car jerked and swayed and shot this way and 
that with lightning-like and awful suddenness. One of the small 
ropes supporting it broke and hung dangling from the side. An- 
other parted and the car sagged dangerously. A frightful lurch 
and Fitz Mee was flung upon the locker, the breath knocked out of 
him; another lurch, and, with a despairing scream that sounded 
above the deafening tumult of the tornado, he rolled overboard and 
disappeared. 

Bob threw himself into the bottom of the car, his eyes tight 
shut, his palms over his ears, and lay there groaning and moaning. 
His comrade was gone and he gave himself up for lost. Oh, how he 
wished he was safe at home! But in the midst of the tumultuous 
storm and his tumultuous thoughts a bright idea suddenly came to 
him. He started, he sprang to his feet and was flung flat again. 
Then, shaking his head and gritting his chattering teeth, he wriggled 
over to the air-tank and turned the cock. The hiss of the escaping 
air was music to him. Little by little the buffeted balloon rose, and 
soon it floated serenely above the zone of the warring winds and 
clouds. Bob was saved! 


53 


The Little Green Goblin 


A little while he lay upon the floor of the car, looking at the 
clear sky overhead and wondering what he was to do. Then he 
thought of his lost companion, and murmured feelingly: 

“Poor old Fitz! Poor old Spasms!” 

As if in answer to his pitying words, he heard a voice calling 
faintly but snappishly: 

“Bob, you rascal! Don’t you dare to call me Spasms!” 

Electrified, the boy sprang to his feet and looked all around. 

“Fitz!” he ejaculated. “But where can he be?” Then in 
superstitious fear: 

“He’s dead; it must be his ghost!” 

“Ghost nothing!” came the voice again, a little louder, more 
vigorous. “Bob, you’re a fool!” 

“Is — is that you, Fitz?” the boy faltered in reply. 

“Of course, dunce!” 

“Well, where are you?” 

“Right down here, dummy!” 

Bob flew to the side of the car, hunkered upon the locker and 
peered over. There, a few feet down, was Fitz Mee hanging to one 
of the broken ropes. 

“Why — why, Fitz, what are you doing down there?” Bob asked 
foolishly. 

“Oh, just enjoying myself; surely you can see that,” the gob- 

54 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


lin sneered wrathfully. “But I’ve had enough; I’m no pig. Pull 
me up.” 

“I don’t know whether I can or not,” Bob answered. “But 
reach me up your hand; I’ll try.” 

After a deal of struggling and kicking and grunting on the 
part of both, Fitz was safely aboard. 

“I thought I was a goner when I fell over,” he panted; “I 
just happened to catch the rope.” Then, with unusual feeling: 
“And you saved us both, Bob, by thinking to let out the air. I 
couldn’t have' hung on, in that storm, a minute longer; and, then, uie 
balloon was fast going to wreck. It was my foolhardiness that caused 
all the trouble, and your thoughtfulness that got us out of it. I’ll 
never go back on you, Bob, old boy, never! But now the storm’s past, 
we must get under way again.” 

“Will the selector work?” the boy asked in some anxiety. 

“It’ll be all right, now,” the goblin assured him. “See? Of! 
we go again. And I’ll give her an extra turn for good speed; I’m 
keen to get along toward home. It must be the middle of the fore- 
noon.” . 

For an hour or two they sailed along steadily, covering mile 
after mile of aerial space with the swiftness of an arrow. At last, 
however, Bob remarked: 

“Fitz, it appears to me we’re closer to the ocean than we were 

55 


The Little Green Goblin 


a while back; we must be descending. I wonder if the rain wet the 
feathers in the bag.” 

“No,” the goblin replied positively. “They can’t get wet. 
They, and the bag, too, for that matter, have been treated with goose 
oil ; and they won’t wet.” 

“Won’t wet?” 

“No. You know a goose’s feathers never get wet, no matter 
how much it goes in the water. We raise thousands of geese in 
Goblinland just for the feathers and the oil to treat them and our 
balloon bags with. We can’t be descending, Bob.” 

But he stepped to the side of the car and cast his eyes upward. 
Then suddenly he started and collapsed upon the seat, white and 
trembling. 

“What is it, what’s the matter, Fitz?” the lad questioned fal- 
teringly, fearing what the answer would be. 

“Bob,” his companion muttered hoarsely, “we are descending! 
We’re lost — we’ll be drowned in the ocean! There’s a rip in the 
bag and the feathers are escaping one by one!” 


56 


CHAPTER IV 
IN DANGER OF THE SEA 


OB drew a deep breath and dropped down 
beside his companion. For several minutes 
they sat silent, each staring stonily into the 
other’s white face. At last the boy mur- 
mured huskily: 

“Fitz, are the feathers es — escaping very 
fast? Can’t we do something to stop the leak?” 

The goblin shook his head. 

“Not very fast,” he said slowly, moistening his dry lips by 
rubbing them together, “just one at a time.” 

“Is the rip in the bag a very big one?” 

“No.” 

Bob brightened. 

“Couldn’t we climb up some way and fix it?” he inquired. 
The goblin gave a negative shake of the head. 

“No,” he replied, “it’s ’way up near the top of the bag.” 
“Well, what’ re we going to do, Fitz?” 

“There’s nothing we can do, Bob. The feathers are escaping 



57 


The Little Green Gohlin 


— one now and then; and, little by little, the balloon will lose its 
buoyancy and sink into the sea. We’re lost!” 

“Look here, Fitz,” Bob cried sharply. “Surely you’re not going 
to give up that way. I didn’t think it of you. There must be some- 
thing we can do to save ourselves.” 

The goblin dropped his chin upon his breast and, rolling his 
head, muttered: “Nothing!” 

“But,” the lad persisted, “we must do something. There’s a lit- 
tle air still left in the tank, and when we sink too low we can let that 
out, and rise again. If we sail as fast as we can, can’t we cross the 
ocean before we drop into it?” 

Fitz Mee leaped to his feet like one electrified. 

“Thank you, Bob — thank you!” he cried, grasping his com- 
panion’s hand. “You’ve given me hope. We’ll try your project; 
and if we lose, we’ll have the satisfaction of knowing we died try- 
ing!” And he set his jaws with a resolute snap. 

“I can’t see where there’ll be much satisfaction in mat for us — 
after we’re dead,” the lad muttered under his breath. 

The goblin hurried to the selector, and gradually turned the 
thumb-screw until the machine was wide open — the current was all 
on. 

The balloon instantly responded, and began to fly through the 
air at a speed little short of miraculous; its two occupants had to 

58 


The Little Green Goblin 


throw themselves prostrate and cling to the locker for safety. The 
still summer air appeared to be blowing a hurricane; the placid, 
heaving ocean appeared to be racing toward the west, a foaming, 
tossing torrent. One by one, a few each minute, the feathers escaped 
through the rent in. the striped bag; and foot by foot, very slowly 
and very surely, the aerial vehicle yielded to the overmastering power 
of gravitation. 

On, on and on they sped, reeling off miles as a watch ticks off 
seconds. Neither the boy nor the goblin found anything to say. 
Both fully realized that they were running a race with death, and the 
knowledge awed them to silence. 

The noon hour came, and still they were flying like mad, due 

east. 

Fitz cautiously lifted his head, put the binocular to his eyes, and 
looked away toward the south. 

“There’s the Azores,” he said, shouting in order to make him- 
self heard, his tone expressing relief and satisfaction. 

“The Azores?” Bob bellowed in reply. 

“Yes — the islands.” 

“Oh!” 

“Yes; we’re making good time.” 

“Well, hadn’t we better stop there?” 

“No.” 


59 


The Little Green Goblin 


“We’re only a few hundred feet above the water.” 

The goblin shook his big head in a decided negative. 

“Why not?” the boy insisted. 

“I’m afraid to stop there.” 

“Afraid?” 

“Yes; I’m afraid there’s no geese on those islands.” 

“Geese?” 

“Yes, we’ve got to have goose feathers to refill our balloon 
bag.” 

“Oh, I see! Well, what’ re you going to try to do, Fitz?” 

“Going to try to make the coast of Portugal. We’ll find geese 
there.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes; Portuguese.” 

And Fitz Mee laughed at his own pun until his fat face be- 
came purple and his breath came and went in wheezing gasps. 

“Oh, shut up!” Bob cried angrily. “This is no time to be 
laughing.” 

“Laughing will do just as much good as crying, Bob,” Fitz made 
answer, but instantly sobering. “I believe we’ll come out all right. 
There are geese in Portugal ; and I think we’ll be able to make the 
coast of that country. We’re making good time; and we’ve not had 
to exhaust the air-tank yet. We’ll drive ahead and hope for the best.” 

60 


The Little Green Goblin 


One hour, two hours, three hours passed. The balloon de- 
scended so low that the car threatened to dip into the waves. The 
goblin released the remaining air in the tank, and again they soared 
aloft, but only a few hundred feet. Another hour and again they 
were dangerously near to the water. 

Bob cried: “Why Fitz, 
the sun’s ’most down! This 
has been an awful short af- 
ternoon.” 

“Yes,” the goblin 
nodded, “and the forenoon 
was short, too. You must 
remember we’re moving 
east very rapidly — running 
away from the sun, run- 
ning to meet the night. 

It’ll be dark soon. I wish 
we’d sight the coast; it 
seems to me it’s about time 
we were doing so.” 

“What’s that wavy blue line ahead of us?” Bob inquired. 

“I don’t see anything,” Fitz answered. 

“I do,” the boy insisted positively. “Give me the glass.” 

61 



The Little Green Goblin 


“It must be land, then,” the goblin suggested. 

“It is land!” Bob cried joyfully. “We’re going to be all right, 
Fitz.” 

“I — I hope so,” Fitz made answer; “I hope we’ll make it.” 

Warned by his companion’s tone and manner that danger was 
imminent, the lad jerked the binocular from his eyes and dropped 
his gaze to the ocean. One glance was sufficient; the car was threat- 
ening to dip into the water at any moment. 

“Oh, Fitz!” the boy wailed. “What are we to do?” 

“I don’t knowd” Fitz whimpered, wringing his hands and wrig- 
gling about upon the locker. “We can’t do anything — oh, we can’t 
do anything! We’re lost — lost!” 

“Look here, Fitz Mee, you old Convulsions!” Bob cried an- 
grily. “You got me into this thing; now you’ve got to help get me 
out. Wake up ! You’re playing the baby. And you called me a cow- 
ard! You’re the coward! Wake up!” roughly shaking him, “We’ve 
got to throw something overboard; and I’ll throw you , in about a 
minute.” 

Just then the car hit the water a glancing spat that threw a 
blinding cloud of brine over the two aeronauts. The balloon re- 
bounded from the impact and continued its mad speed. 

“Whee!” screamed Fitz Mee. “You’re right, Bob. We must 
lighten the balloon some way; one more lick like that will tear the 

62 


The Little Green Goblin 


car loose from the bag. Raise the lids of the locker, and throw out 
a lot of the old stuff we won’t need.” 

Frantically they began to lighten ship, flinging into the sea odds 
and ends of various kinds — the accumulation of many voyages. It 
availed them little, however; the balloon ascended but a few feet, 
and skimmed dangerously near to the water, into which it threat- 
ened to take a final plunge at any moment. 

Now the coast line was plainly visible to the naked eye; and now 
it was but a few miles away, the hills and rocks standing out dis- 
tinctly. Yet how far off it seemed to the despairing aeronauts! 
Neither spoke ; each held his breath and his tongue, expecting to have 
to make a final struggle and swim for life. 

Lower and lower sank the balloon. Once more the car spatted 
the water, and this time it did not rebound, but went tearing along 
at railroad speed, deluging and almost drowning its occupants. For 
a few minutes the two lost all sense of their surroundings, nearly 
lost consciousness. Then the car struck the shelving, sandy shore 
with a smart bump, and the balloon came to a full stop. The wild 
and dangerous ride was over! 

“Saved!” sputtered Fitz Mee, jumping from the car and dancing 
up and down. 

“Saved!” coughed Bob, indulging in similar antics. 

Then they tearfully embraced, whirling round and round, their 

63 


The Little Green Goblin 


saturated garments dripping a circle of wet upon the yellow sands. 

The sun was gone from sight; the shades of night were stealing 
in upon them. 

“We can’t do anything to-night toward resuming our voyage,” 
the goblin remarked; “it’s almost dark now. Then you’re wet and 
weak and I’m famished and faint. We’ll spend the hours of darkness 
here upon the warm sands, and in the morning we’ll look around 
us.” 

“All right,” the boy agreed; “I guess that’s the best we can do.” 

By dint of a deal of tugging and grunting, they drew the balloon 
up out of reach of wave and tide. Then they wrung their garments, 
swallowed a number of food-tablets and drink-pellets and lay down 
to sleep under the shelter of an overhanging cliff. 

The sun was an hour high when they awoke. Simultaneously 
they opened their eyes and sprang to their feet. Sleep had much re- 
freshed them; the warm air and sand had dried their garments. 
After partaking of a hearty but hasty breakfast, they began to look 
around them. 

At their feet lay their balloon, a sorry wreck. But close examina- 
tion made plain the fact that it could be easily repaired and put in 
shape. A short distance to the north a river put into the sea. They 
sauntered to the mouth of it, and took in the view of the broad fer- 
tile valley. A mile or two up the stream lay a small village. 

64 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I’ll tell you what we’ve got to do, Bob,” Fitz remarked re- 
flectively, scratching his head. 

“Well, what?” inquired the boy. 

“We’ve got to go into that town.” 

“What for?” 

“For cord and goose feathers. We need the cord to splice the 
broken ropes of our car, and we need the feathers to refill our bag.” 

“Yes,” the lad mumbled, “we need those articles all right, Fitz; 
but maybe the people of the village don’t have such things.” 

“Of course they do,” the goblin sneered superiorly. 

“How do you know?” the boy said tauntingly. 

“Well, I know.” 

“No, you don’t; you just guess.” 

“A goblin never guesses at anything.” 

“I guess he does; you guessed we’d get drowned — but we 
didn’t.” 

“Shut up!” 

“You shut up !” 

“I won’t!” 

“Neither will I!” 

Then they stood and silently glared at each other for a full half 
minute. Finally both began to look foolish, and burst out laughing. 
“Fitz, you’re too hot-headed, you old Epilepsy,” Bob giggled. 

65 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I know it,” tittered the goblin; “but so are you, Roberty- 
Boberty.” 

“I know it,” the boy admitted; “but I can’t stay mad at you, 
Fitz.” 

“I can’t stay mad at you, either, Bob. Now let’s stop our fool- 
ishness and go to that village, and see about the cord and feathers we 
need.” 

“All right. But how are we to get the things, Fitz? Have you 
any money?” 

“I’ve got gold; that’s just as good.” 

“Gold?” 

“Yes. Look here.” 

The goblin took a bag of yellow nuggets from his pocket and 
emptied them out and shook them before the boy’s eyes. 

“Is that gold?” Bob inquired, interested and not a little excited. 

“Yes, to be sure,” Fitz Mee answered. 

“Where did you get it?” 

“In Goblinland.” 

“Is there much of it there?” 

“Bushels of it. These nuggets are as common there as pebbles 
are in your country.” 

“Indeed!” the lad exclaimed, in wide-eyed wonder and admira- 
tion. “You goblins must be mighty rich.” 

66 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“We don’t put any value upon gold,” was the complacent reply; 
“we never use it at home.” 

Bob was thoughtfully silent for some seconds. 

“What’re you thinking about?” his companion inquired with a 
shrewd and cunning smile. 

“Thinking how rich I can be 
when I go back home,” was the 
frank admission. Then abrupt- 
ly: “What’s that coming down 
the road yonder, Fitz?” 

“Hello!” the goblin ejacu- 
lated delightedly. “We won’t 
have to tramp to the village. 

That’s a gooseherd. See; he has 
the geese tethered together with 
twine and is guiding them with 
a crook. We’ll wait here and 
buy them of him.” 

The gooseherd and his 
drew near. He was a tall, angular young man, ragged and barefoot. 
His merry whistle rose above the strident quacks of his charges, and 
his flat feet softly spatted the dust of the highway in time to his own 
music. 



6 7 


The Little Green Goblin 


Fitz Mee stepped forward, politely lifted his cap and said in 
greeting: 

“Good morning, Sir Gooseherd.” 

The young man stopped in his tracks and dropped his crook 
and his jaw at the same time. Plainly he was startled at the sudden 
appearance of the little green sprite and his companion, and just as 
plainly he was greatly frightened. 

“We desire to purchase your geese,” the goblin ventured, boldly 
advancing. “How much gold will buy them?” 

The gooseherd let out a shrill yell of terror and turned and 
fled up the road as fast as his long legs could carry him. The geese 
attempted to flee also, but, being tethered together, became hopelessly 
and helplessly entangled and fell to the ground, a flapping, quacking 
mass. 

Bob and Fitz laughed heartily. 

“Hurrah!” the goblin whooped. “The geese and cord are ours, 
anyhow.” 

“But we didn’t pay the fellow,” Bob objected. 

“I’ll fix that,” his comrade assured him. “When we’ve plucked 
the feathers off the geese, I’ll tie the bag of nuggets around the neck 
of one, and then we’ll turn ’em loose. The young fellow’ll find ’em 
and get the gold. And now we must hurry up and get through with 


68 


The Little Green Goblin 


this job and be off from this coast; the gooseherd may come back and 
bring his friends with him.” 

The two diminutive aeronauts laboriously disentangled the geese 
and drove them to the immediate vicinity of the wrecked balloon. 
There they plucked the feathers off the quacking, quaking fowls, and 
refilled the balloon-bag and closed the rent. Then they turned the 
stripped and complaining birds loose, one meekly bearing the bag 
of gold; and finally they spliced the broken ropes of the car and were 
ready to resume their voyage. 

“Jump in and pump up the tank a little, Bob,” Fitz cried joy- 
fully. “I’ll be ready to weigh anchor when you say the word.” 

But at that moment came the patter of many feet upon the dry 
sand, followed by a shower of clubs and stones that rattled about the 
car and the heads of its occupants, and instantly the balloon was sur- 
rounded by a crowd of gaping, leering villagers ! 

“Captured!” groaned Fitz Mee. 

“Captured!” echoed Bob. 

The villagers began to close in upon them, brandishing rude 
weapons and uttering hoarse cries of rage. 

In sheer desperation the goblin squirmed and grimaced, and 
ended his ridiculous performance by uttering a blood-curdling 
“boo!” 

The startled villagers fell back in indecision and alarm, tumbling 

69 


The Little Green Goblin 


over one another in frantic efforts to get out of reach of the little 
green sprite. Taking instant advantage of the respite, Bob whipped 
out his knife and cut the anchor rope, and with a smart jerk the bal- 
loon sprang aloft. 

“Saved!” murmured the boy. “Saved, Fitz Mee!” 

He received no answer; and he hurriedly turned to look for his 
companion who, a moment before, had been at his side. Then he 
sank back upon the locker, overcome with wonder and dismay. Fitz 
Mee was not in the car; Bob was alone! 


70 


CHAPTER V 

IN WHICH BOB BECOMES A GIANT 


HE balloon was rapidly rising. Bob flew to the 
air-tank and frantically worked the pump. Grad- 
ually the primitive air-craft came to a stop, and 
floated motionless several hundred feet above the 
ground. 

Then the boy hunkered upon the locker and 
peered over the edge of the car. Distinctly he could hear the clam- 
orous cries and yells of the Portuguese; and in the center of the jeer- 
ing, hooting mob, he could barely distinguish his diminutive friend. 
The sudden jerk of the car had thrown the goblin out, right among 
the villagers; and they were dancing delightedly around the green 
little sprite, clapping their hands and whooping themselves hoarse. 

Bob caught up the binocular and directed it toward the scene 
below him. After a momentary inspection, he settled back with a 
sigh of partial relief. 

“I guess they’re not going to kill him,” the boy muttered. “But 
I wonder what they’ll do with him ; and I wonder what’s to become 
of me ” 



71 


The Little Green Goblin 


Again he surveyed the scene below. The Portuguese were set- 
ting off toward their village, bearing the kicking, screaming Fitz 
Mee with them. A gigantic peasant carried the goblin in his arms. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Bob murmured, in deep perplexity; 
“I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know the way to Goblinland; 
and so I can’t go there after help to rescue Fitz. I won’t go back 
home and leave him to his fate, though ; that would be mean and cow- 
ardly. I — I don’t know what to — to do.” 

A while he sat upon the locker, silently and thoughtfully peer- 
ing over the edge of the basket, occasionally putting the binocular to 
his eyes. There was not a breath of air; and the balloon hung mo- 
tionless as a fleecy summer cloud. The boy saw the peasants making 
their way up the valley to the outskirts of the village, and noted the 
hub-bub that was raised among the other villagers, at the advent of 
the goblin. Then the whole crowd disappeared among the trees and 
buildings of the little hamlet. With a start, Bob roused himself. 

“I’ve got to do something he grumbled testily to himself; “I 
can’t just float here always. Poor old Spasms ! I’ve got to help him 
out of the fix he’s got into, someway. I don’t believe he’d go back 
on me — I don’t believe he would; and I won’t go back on him. But 
what in the world can I do?” scratching his head and frowning. 
“Oh, I’d like to be a giant just for a little while! If I wouldn’t 
show those Portuguese a thing or two! I’d drop right down among 

72 


The Little Green Goblin 


’em, lick the last one of ’em — and carry Fitz away in the palm of my 
hand. Oh! but that would be fine!” And he chuckled and wagged 
his head. 

Then an idea, suggested by his wish to be a giant, came to him; 
and he leaped from his seat and hurried to the locker on the opposite 
side of the car, and threw it open. After a momentary search, he 
drew forth the hand-satchel containing the food-tablets and drink- 
pellets. 

“I’ll just see, anyhow,” he whispered excitedly. “If the goblins 
make tablets to shrink people, maybe they make some to swell ’em 
up — make giants of ’em. I’ll just see.” 

He opened the satchel and, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his 
brows, commenced to mumble over the names upon the tiny bottles. 

“Food-tablets — tiger-muscle, food-tablets — lion-heart, drink- 
pellets — pure water, food-tablets — fat, gob-tabs — for dwarfing pur- 
poses.” 

He grinned and shook his head. 

“I don’t want any more of those,” he grimaced; “I’m too small 
for any good use now. It’s funny there isn’t any — ah! What’s this? 
‘Giant-tabs — to be used only in cases of extreme need.’ I’ll bet those 
are the very things I’m looking for. I’m going to try ’em, anyhow. 
If there ever was a case of extreme need, this is one.” 

He shook out one of the little tablets and was about to pop it into 


73 


The Little Green Goblin 


his mouth, when he started suddenly and sharply and shook his head, 
muttering: 

“It won’t do to take it now — till I get to the ground. It might 
swell me up so big my weight would overcome the buoyancy of the 
feathers or break the ropes of the car; and then I’d fall like a gob 
of mud. I’ll have to wait till I’m out of the balloon before I make 
the experiment. And it may get me into trouble when I do take the 
stuff — I don’t know; it may poison me — or swell me up so fast I’ll 
burst. Well, I don’t know what else to try; so I’ve got to do it. 
Now I’ll just sail out over the town, the first thing, and see if I can 
find out what those Portuguese have done with Fitz — poor old chap! 
My! I almost wish I was out of all this mess of trouble, and back 
home.” 

He set the needle of the selector as he had seen the goblin do, 
and gave a slight turn to the thumb-screw; and the balloon instantly 
began to move toward the village a mile or so away. When his 
vessel had reached a position directly over the little town, Bob shut 
off the power and brought it to a standstill. Then he took his glass 
and peered down among the roofs and treetops. He saw the people 
congregated in the central square of the place. It was evident they 
were holding some sort of public meeting. A speaker upon an im- 
provised platform was wildly talking and gesticulating; and the 
other villagers were listening intently, mouths agape. Bob could 

74 


The Little Green Goblin 

hear the words of the orator of the occasion, and was surprised and 
pleased to learn that he could understand their meaning. The man 
was saying: 

“My peo- 
ple, I’ve called 
you together 
here to deter- 
mine what we 
shall do with 
this strange be- 
ing that has 

landed upon our shores. The first 
however, is to ascertain what the 
not a man — that’s plain; and I’d like 
of opinion from you as to what you 
be. Speak out, now.” 

“It’s a big green frog,” said one 

Bob smiled as he listened. 

“It’s a green parrot with- 
said another. 

Bob grinned. 

“It’s a green devil,” ventured a third. 

Bob chuckled. 




thing to do, 
thing is. It’s 
an expression 
consider it to 

man. 

out feathers,” 




7S 


The Little Green Goblin 


“It’s a green monkey/’ opined a fourth. 

Bob laughed outright. 

And the peasants heard him, and cast their gaze aloft; and im- 
mediately began to gesticulate and vociferate excitedly. 

“I’m a goblin, you fools!” croaked a familiar voice. “I’m a 
goblin, I tell you !” 

Bob then saw his friend. The latter was confined in a parrot 
cage hanging upon a post in front of a building. The speaker — who, 
it was plain, was in authority — quieted the populace; and then he 
continued : 

“As you will perceive, there’s another one of the strange beings 
up there in that balloon. Now, my opinion is that they’re moon-men 
from the moon. As you all know, the moon’s made of green cheese; 
and that would account for the color of them.” 

“But the one up there isn't green,” a woman objected; “he’s 
gray.” 

“No doubt he’s old and faded,” the speaker explained. 

Bob laughed heartily; then listened intently, for the official was 
saying: 

“My opinion is that these moon-men have come to bring a pesti- 
lence upon us, my children; and if we do not rid ourselves of them, 
we will suffer greatly. So I condemn them to death. This one 
that,, by your great prowess and bravery, you have already captured, 

76 


The Little Green Goblin 


we will execute at sunset; and bury him with a great stone upon him, 
that he may know no resurrection. The other one must be captured. 
We must think of some plan to entice him within our reach. Let 
us adjourn to my official residence, there to consider the grave mat- 
ter.” 

Soon the street was apparently deserted; but the boy could see 
guards peeping from places of concealment. 

“Bob!” Fitz Mee called softly. “Hello, Bob!” 

“Hello, Fitz!” the lad answered. 

“Come down and get me — quick!” 

“I don’t dare, Fitz; they’re watching.” 

“But you must get me out of this fix, Bob, somehow.” 

“Of course, Fitz. But how?” 

“Can’t you think of a plan? Fm so scared I cant think.” 

“I’ve thought of one plan.” 

“What is it?” 

Bob gave a few strokes to the air-pump ; and the balloon sank al- 
most to the level of the treetops. Then the boy said, cautiously: 

“Fitz, do you hear me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, this is the plan I’ve thought of: Fve found some giant- 
tabs in your portable pantry; and I think of taking one of them.” 

“That’s the thing,” Fitz interrupted gleefully. “You’re a gen- 
ius, Bob.” 77 


The Little Green Goblin 


“It won’t hurt me — the medicine, will it?” 

“Not a bit.” 

“Just make a giant of me?” 

“That’s all ” 

“And I can go back to boy size or goblin size, when I want to?” 

“Yes; all you’ll have to do is to take a few gob-tabs.” 

“Ugh! more pills. Well, all right; I’ll do it, then. I’ll make 
a giant of myself, and sail in and knock these Portuguese galley-west 
— and carry you off.” 

“Well, do it' right now,” Fitz cried impatiently. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why can’t you?” peevishly. 

“I don’t dare take the giant-tabs till I’m upon the ground, you 
understand; my size would wreck the balloon. And I don’t dare to 
come to the ground, right here and right now; the Portuguese would 
capture me before I could do anything. See?” 

“Y-e-s,” Fitz Mee admitted, disappointment in his voice. “But 
what are you going to do?” 

“I’m going over the hills out of sight, drop to the ground there, 
and hide the balloon, and then come back afoot.” 

“Well, don’t be very long about it, Bob.” 

“Oh! there’s no hurry. They don’t mean to kill you till sunset, 


Fitz. 


78 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


“Well, do you think I want to stay cooped up here all day?’ 

“You mustn’t get impatient, Fitzy,” the boy giggled. 

“You stop your laughing,” the goblin grumbled. “It isn’t 
funny.” 

“Isn't it?” tauntingly. 

“No, it isn’t, Roberty-Boberty !” 

“Yeah — yeah! Old Epilepsy!” 

“Shut up!” 

“You shut up !” 

“Say, Bob?” 

“What?” 

“You will hurry, won’t you?” 

“Yes! But say, Fitz?” 

“Well?” 

“How is it that I can understand what these Portuguese say?” 
“Well, you know we goblins can understand any language.” 
“We goblins?” the boy cried sharply. 

“Yes,” Fitz chuckled. 

“I’m no goblin,” Bob asserted stoutly; “I’m a Yankee.” 

“You’re a goblin — half goblin, anyhow.” 

“I’m not!” 

“You are! You’ve taken gob-tabs; and that makes you partly 
goblin.” 


79 


The Little Green Goblin 

“Fitz Mee,” the boy yelled, “you mean old thing! You say 
that again, and I’ll sail off home — and leave you right where you 
are.” 

“I won’t say it any more, Bob ; but it’s so.” 

“Good-bye, Fitz; I’m going.” 

“Not home?” 

“No; over the hills.” 

“Well, hurry back.” 

“All right.” 

Bob released a little of the pent air in the tank, and soared high 
above the earth ; then he manipulated the selector and sped away over 
the hills out of sight of the village. When he thought it safe, he 
worked the pump and descended to the earth. There he made the 
balloon fast in a secluded spot near the highway — by tying it securely 
to a tree, with the piece of anchor-rope remaining. 

“There,” he breathed softly, “I’ll know where to find my air-* 
ship; I’ll remember the place by this big funny-looking stone here at 
the roadside. Now I’ll take my medicine and be off to the rescue 
of my good comrade, Fitz Mee.” 

He took one of the tiny giant-tabs and swallowed it; and imme- 
diately he began to grow and grow — clothes and all. He stretched 
up, up till his head was on a level with the tops of the smaller trees ; 
and he spread out till he was as big in girth as the trunks of the larg- 
est. 80 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“Wonderful!” he ejaculated, and his voice almost frightened 
him; it was as coarse and hoarse as the roar of a lion. He looked 
at his hands and feet — and laughed. They were as large as hams of 
meat; and his limbs were like the great limbs of an elephant. 
Proudly he strode about, crooking his arm and feeling his biceps 
muscle and muttering to himself: 

“Won’t I make a scatterment among those Portuguese! I’ll 
scare ’em all into conniption fits. But I won’t hurt any of ’em, unless 
I have to; that would be wrong, cruel — just like a big man whipping 
a little boy. But I must be off; Fitz will be tired of waiting. I 
wonder how far I’ve got to walk. My! but I’m hungry; and I want 
meat ” 

He picked up a large knotted pole for a cane and set off along 
the road, whistling; and his whistle was as loud as that of a calliope. 
The birds flew away in affright; and the hares and other small 
animals scampered into the depths of the forest. Bob smiled com- 
placently, recklessly swinging his big knotted club. 

Presently he approached a hut by the roadside; and he went up 
to it and knocked upon the swinging door. An old woman put in 
an appearance; but, at sight of her gigantic caller, she let out a yell 
and fled back into the dusky interior. 

Bob turned the corner of the cabin,— his head overtopped the comb 
of the roof by several feet! — and dropped upon hands and knees and 


The Little Green Goblin 


crawled into the kitchen. The poor old woman again caught sight 
of him; and fled from the premises, screaming shrilly. Bob pitied 
her and called to her to come back, that he meant her no harm; but 
his awful bellowing voice served only to frighten her the more. 

The boy-giant — or the giant-boy, or whatever he -should be 
called — discovered upon the table in 
the center of the floor a leg of 
roast mutton, a loaf of black 
bread, a jug of milk and some 
fruit; and ravenously de- 
voured the whole. Then he 
retreated from the kitchen; 
and, feeling much refreshed, 
resumed his way toward the 
village, taking strides fully fifteen 
feet long. 

But when he had gone a short 
distance, he met the old woman whose 
food he had eaten returning toward her 
home, accompanied by her husband. The man had been at work 
in the fields ; and now he was walking rapidly, his head down, crack- 
ing his fists and valiantly declaring what he would do to the bold 
intruder when he encountered him. Bob heard the fellow’s rash 

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The Little Green Goblin 


threats, and gave a loud laugh. The man flung up his head, took 
one look at the boy-giant — and incontinently took to his heels, liter- 
ally dragging his wife after him. Across the fields they flew, and 
disappeared in a bit of woodland; and Bob pursued his course un- 
molested, still laughing boisterously. It was all so very funny! 

Shortly he reached the top of the hill, where he could look down 
upon the little village, whose inhabitants were all unconscious of the 
terrible being that was approaching it. There the boy-giant paused 
to consider. Shaking his head he muttered, a grin spreading over 
his coarse features: 

“Well, those giant-tabs have increased my size wonderfully, but 
I don’t feel that they’ve increased my courage in the same way. I’m 
almost afraid to go down into that town. Those Portuguese might 
take it into their heads to shoot; and I’d be such a big mark they 
couldn't miss me. But I guess there’s no other way; so here goes.” 

He loped off down the hill ; and a few minutes later he was en- 
tering the village. Some children at play saw him coming and ran 
ahead of him, screaming frantically. A woman came to her door, 
and immediately followed the children, also yelling at the top of her 
voice. Several men hastily put in an appearance; and as hastily 
joined the woman and children, in a mad race toward the public 
square of the town. The alarm spread. Others, and still others — of 
both sexes and all ages and sizes — emerged from concealment; and 

83 


The Little Green Goblin 


sought safety in mad flight, all speeding toward one destination, the 
mayor’s official residence. 

The mayor and his officers and advisors heard the hub-bub and 
poured forth to ascertain the cause of it; and when the boy-giant ar- 
rived at, the town’s place of public gathering, there they all were, yell- 
ing, screaming, shouting and gesticulating. 

Bob swung his big club and bellowed “boo! boo! boo!” as loud 
as he could; and the frightened people tumbled over one another in 
an effort to hurry to places of security. The mayor led the way, 
olosely followed by his officers. All deserted the place but one old 
soldier. He ran at Bob, a rusty sword in his hand, and tried to hack 
the boy-giant’s legs; and the latter had to snatch the sword away from 
the pugnacious old warrior and take him across his knee and spank 
him soundly, before he would consent to behave. However, when 
at last the boy-giant set the old fellow upon the ground, he scampered 
away as fast as he could limp. 

“Oh, Bob — Bob!” Fitz Mee cried pipingly, piteously, a hint 
of tears in his voice. “I’m so glad you’ve come. They had just 
decided to execute me at noon; and it wants only an hour of the 
time.” 

“A miss is as good as a mile, Fitz,” Bob laughed. “But we must 
get out of here before they recover their wits and their courage, and 
return; they might shoot us. My! but didn’t that old soldier want 

84 


The Little Green Goblin 


to fight? A few like him would have given me a lot of trouble. 
Well, here we go — for safety and a better country.” 

And he took the parrot cage containing the goblin under arm, 
and made a hurried retreat from the village. 


85 



CHAPTER VI 


LOST IN THE DESERT 

S Bob moved rapidly along the country road, 
bearing his comrade in the parrot cage, he 
could hear the sounds of clamor and pursuit 
behind him — the barking of dogs, the con- 
fused shouting and yelling of men, and the 
booming and cracking of fire-arms. 

“Hurry, Bob, hurry!” squeaked Fitz Mee. 

“They’re after us!” 

“Yes, but their legs are too short,” 

Bob chuckled; “they won’t catch us. 

Don’t you worry, my teenty-weenty 
green frog, the naughty men shan’t 
hurt you.” And he held the parrot 
cage up in front of him, and with his 
finger playfully poked Fitz Mee in 
the ribs. 

“Quit that!” croaked 
goblin. “And don’t you call 
a green frog any more, either.” 





»7 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Pretty little green monkey, that’s what it is!” Bob laughed, 
teasingly. 

“Shut up!” snapped Fitz. 

“Nice little green devil!” the boy-giant continued, shaking with 
laughter. 

“Shut up!” screeched the goblin. “Shut up, I say! I’ll scratch 
you ; I’ll bite you!” 

“Sweet-tempered little green moon-man!” Bob persisted. 

“Look here, Bob Taylor!” Fitz cried, vexed and desperate. “If 
you don’t quit calling me names, I’ll — I’ll run off and leave you.” 

“All right,” the boy-giant returned placidly, “I’ll just set you 
down here in the road and let you run off.” 

And he suited his action to his words. 

“Oh, don’t, please don’t, Bob!” Fitz Mee pleaded, almost in 
tears. “Let me out of this cage, and take me up and go ahead. And 
don’t plague me any more, just because you’re so big and so strong. 
It isn’t like you, Bob — to be so cruel. I don’t like you as a giant; 
I’d rather have you as a goblin — as a boy, I mean — and I’ll be glad 
when you’re back in that state again.” 

“Maybe I won’t be a boy or a goblin any more,” Bob remarked 
thoughtfully, as he released his companion and took him up in his 
arms; “maybe I’ll just remain a giant. I rather like being a giant; 
I don’t have to take pills when I’m a giant. I can eat meat and 
things.” on 


The Little Green Goblin 

“But you can’t go in the balloon, as a giant,” Fitz Mee sug- 
gested. 

“No, that’s so. Well, maybe I won’t go in it any more; maybe 
you don’t want me to.” 

“You know I do, Bob.” 

“Sure?” 

“Of course! Aren’t we on our way to Goblinland, to have the 
time of our lives — hey?” shrewdly. 

“Well, I’ll go back to the form of a goblin, then, Fitz ; but — ugh ! 
— I don’t like the pills!” 

They topped the hill and reached the hut where Bob had taken 
the old woman’s dinner. He told the goblin what he had done, and 
the goblin chuckled and spluttered in great glee. The boy-giant 
shook him and said to him: 

“Have you any more gold about you?” 

“A little,” the green sprite made reply. “Why?” 

“I want it.” 

“What for?” 

“To pay that old woman for the dinner I ate.” 

“Well, you can’t have it.” 

“I can’t?” 

“No, you can’t!” 

“Why can’t I?” 


89 


The Little Green Goblin 


“It’s my gold, not yours.” 

“I know, Fitz; but you’ll let me have it.” 

“Will I? Not much, Roberty-Boberty !” 

“Take care!” Bob cried, giving the tiny fellow a threatening 
shake. “Remember I’m a giant right now, and liable to lose my 
temper. And don’t you call me any more names, I warn you. Now, 
hand over that gold.” 

“You’re a robber, that’s what you are, Rob Taylor,” the goblin 
complained sullenly, fumbling in his pocket for the gold demanded. 

“And you’re a mischievous, ill-tempered little pest,” Bob 
laughed. 

At last, with apparent reluctance, the goblin dropped two or 
three nuggets into the boy-giant’s broad palm. 

“There!” he muttered. “But I don’t see what you want to pay 
the old woman for.” 

“Because it’s right to pay her,” Bob explained; “I took her din- 
ner.” 

“Oh!” giggling. 

“Yes, sir. And you know it’s right, Fitz; you’re just pla- 
guing me.” 

“Think so?” — laughing. “Well, pay her. But hurry up about 
it; I hear our pursuers coming. You’ll fool around and get us 
trapped, if you don’t look sharp.” 


90 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

Here! Bob cried, dropping the goblin to the ground and re- 
turning the gold to him. “You go to the door and pay her. If she 
sees me, she’ll run away again. Go on; I’ll hide.” 

With the words he stepped aside among the trees that bordered 



the road ; and the goblin ran to the door of the hut and kicked upon 
it. There was silence in the cabin for several moments; then the 
door screaked on its hinges and slowly swung open. The old man 
and old woman were both there; but as soon as they caught sight of 


The Little Green Goblin 


the green little being, they were more frightened than they had been 
at sight of the giant. With a great flirting of skirts and shaking of 
trousers, they leaped right over the goblin’s head and sped away to 
the fields again, yelling lustily. Fitz Mee rolled upon the ground, 
laughing immoderately; and Bob joined in his companion’s merri- 
ment. However, he called to him: 

“Throw the gold upon the floor — and come on ; they’ll find it, if 
they ever pluck up courage to come back to their house. Come on; 
we’ve got to hurry.” 

The boy-giant caught up his wee comrade and ran as fast as he 
could toward the place where he had hid the balloon. The sounds 
of pursuit were close behind them. Into the woods Bob dashed and 
crashed ; and soon he stood beside the air-vessel. 

“Open the satchel and get me a gob-tab — quick!” he bellowed to 
Fitz, tossing him into the basket. 

“A gob-tab?” squeaked Fitz. 

“Yes — quick!” 

“ One won’t do you any good.” 

“Huh!” 

“No; you’ll have to take a half-dozen. Here they are.” 

“Have I got to swallow all those pills?” 

“Yes, down ’em — and be nimble about it.” 

“Well, I won't!” 


92 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Now, Bob!” coaxingly. 

“I won’t!” stubbornly. “You know I don’t like pills!” 

“Bob, you’ll get us into trouble.” 

“I don’t care. I’d rather get into trouble than have trouble get 
into me; and that’s what pills are — trouble.” 

Just then came a loud rattling and crashing of the underbrush; 
and a large number of men and boys and dogs burst into the little 
open space and surrounded the two adventurers. 

“Surrender!” cried the mayor. 

“Get out!” roared the boy-giant in answer. And he set into 
kicking the too inquisitive dogs and cuffing the too venturesome men 
in a strenuous manner that made them fall back to a respectful dis- 
tance — and in a great hurry. 

“Untie the balloon!” Bob bawled to his companion. “And give 
me those gob-tabs!” 

Fitz Mee did as directed. 

“Boo! boo! boo!” roared the boy-giant, leaping and dancing 
awkwardly about. 

“At ’em again!” commanded the mayor. “But don’t shoot; cap- 
ture ’em alive!” 

Again men and boys and dogs began to close in upon the aero- 
nauts. Fitz Mee signalled that the balloon was in readiness. Bob 
clapped the six gob-tabs into his mouth and hastily swallowed them 

93 


The Little Green Goblin 


— making a ridiculously grotesque face that caused his enemies to 
hesitate in their advance upon him. Then he tried to let out another 
startling “boo.” It started of! all right, big and coarse and awful; 
but it ended in a tiny dribbling squeak that was so funny that the 
goblin dropped to the bottom of the car, squirming and laughing. 
Bob had suddenly shrunk to goblin size. 

“A miracle!” cried the mayor, crossing himself and retreating. 

“A miracle!” seconded his people, following his example. 

Taking advantage of the momentary respite in his favor, Bob 
jumped into the car. Fitz released the air; and away the balloon 
soared — up through the treetops — to the fleecy clouds far, far above 
the earth. Cries and wails of disappointment and chagrin followed 
the daring aeronauts. 

“Saved again!” yelled Bob. 

“Saved again!” croaked Fitz. 

“They came near catching us!” the boy panted. 

“Yes, and it was all your fault,” the goblin grumbled. 

“How do you make that out?” Bob cried sharply. 

“Why, you wouldn’t take the gob-tabs, and that delayed us— 
that’s how,” Fitz Mee retorted. 

“Yes, and you lay down and laughed in the old woman’s door- 
yard; and that delayed us, too.” 

“It didn’t!” 


94 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“It did!” 

“It didn’t, I say!” 

“It did, I say!” 

“Bob, you’re a contrary boy, that’s what you are!” 

“And, Fitz, you’re a stubborn goblin, that’s what you are!” 
Then they sat upon the locker and glared at each other — and 
burst out laughing. 

“Well, we got away, anyhow,” Fitz said. 

“That’s what we did,” Bob replied. 

“Let’s be off.” 

“All right.” 

“Here’s for Goblinland!” waving his arms. 

“Hurrah !” waving his cap. 

Fitz began to manipulate the selector. 

“You haven’t set that needle right,” the boy objected. 

“Huh?” — sharply. 

“No, you haven’t.” 

“Why haven’t I?” 

“Goblinland’s east from here, isn’t it?” 

“Of course.” 

“Well, you’ve set that needle pointing west.” 

“I haven’t.” 

“You have, too.” 


95 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Why, Bob, the sun rises in the east, doesn’t it?” 

“To be sure.” 

“Well?” 

“Well, it’s afternoon now, and the sun’s in the west; and you’ve 
set the indicator pointing straight toward it.” 

“I tell you it’s forenoon; and the sun’s in the east.” 

“Fitz, you’re wrong.” 

“Bob, I’m not.” 

“You’ll see." 

“You’ll see.” ‘ 

“Fitz Mee, you don’t know anything.” 

“Bob Taylor, I know everything.” 

“Yes, you do!” 

“I do!” 

“Bah!” the boy sneered. “You didn’t know enough to loose the 
latch of a parrot cage and let yourself out.” 

“And you didn’t know enough to take gob-tabs when you needed 
’em.” 

“Yeah!” 

“Yeah!” 

Both remained sullenly silent for some seconds. Then Bob said 
grumblingly : 

“All right, Fitz Mee, have your way. You’ll see, though.” 

96 


The Little Green Goblin 


The goblin made no reply; he simply turned the thumb-screw of 
the selector, and the balloon sailed away upon its course rapidly and 
gracefully. Presently, however, Fitz gave a start and muttered: 

“Why, we’re out over the water again ; and we ought to be cross- 
ing the mountains. I wonder what’s the matter — eh, Bob?” 

“Oh! there’s nothing the matter,” snickered Bob, “except we’re 
going west, as I told you — going back to America.” 



“Bob, I— I guess you’re right,” Fitz admitted, reluctantly. 

“Of course I’m right,” the boy said, swelling with supreme self- 
satisfaction. 

“Well,” muttered the goblin, “we can turn around and go the 
other way; and we will.” 

With that he again began to busy himself with the selector. But 
in a moment he mumbled peevishly: 

“Why — why, what’s the matter with this thing?” 

97 


The Little Green Goblin 


“What?” the boy inquired. 

“The needle won’t turn at all, Bob.” 

“It won’t?” stooping to examine. 

“No, it won’t. See?” 

“Yes. What do you suppose ails it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Don’t you understand your own machinery, Fitz Mee of Gob- 
linland?” teasingly. 

“Yes, I do — when a certain boy from Yankeeland hasn’t meddled 
with it,” crossly. 

“Oh!” 

“Yes.” 

“You think I hurt your old machine?” 

“I know you did — in some way.” 

“Fitz Mee, I wish I’d left you in the hands of the Portuguese.” 
“No, you don’t. 

“I dor 

“Now, Bob!” 

“Well, what did you say I spoiled the selector for?” 

“I didn’t mean you did it on purpose, Bob.” 

“Didn’t you?” 

“No; I just meant you did it by accident. It’s a very delicate 
instrument, you know.” 


98 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


“Oh!” 

“Yes. Well, it’s done and can’t be helped. It appears that I’ve 
set the indicator west instead of east, so west we must go. It’ll be a 
longer journey, but who cares ! We’ll sail right back across America 
and over the Pacific. I’ll open her up and let her fly.” 

He gave a turn or two to the thumb-screw; and the balloon shot 
forward — at the speed of a comet, almost. The two aeronauts 
dropped flat upon the floor of the car and remained silent, for the up- 
roar occasioned by their rapid passage through the air prevented 
conversation. Soon, however, the mercurial boy grew restless ; and 
he cautiously drew himself up across the locker and peeped over 
the edge of the basket. The goblin caught his venturesome com- 
panion by the heels and attempted to draw him back; but Bob wrig- 
gled and gesticulated, pointing downward over the rim of the bas- 
ket, and finally grabbed Fitz by the arm and pulled him up on to the 
locker. The goblin took one peep ; then rolled to the bottom of the 
car, and tightened the thumb-screw and gradually brought the bal- 
loon to a standstill. 

“We’re over the land again,” Bob gasped. 

“Yes,” panted Fitz Mee, climbing to his comrade’s side. 

“Well, what does it mean? We haven’t reached America al- 
ready, have we?” 

The goblin shook his head, frowning in a puzzled way. 

L OF C. gg 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Well, where are we, then?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Fitz, we’re lost.” 

“I guess we are, Bob.” 

The boy took up the binocular and looked all around. 

“Why!” he exclaimed. “There’s a city ’way back yonder on the 
coast, an odd-looking city like the pictures in my geography; and 
there’s nothing out there ahead of us but sand — sand — sand, as far as 
I can see.” 

“Huh!” snorted Fitz Mee. 

Then he rolled to the floor of the car, laughing immoderately 
and holding his sides and kicking up his heels. 

“Look here!” the boy cried angrily. “What’s the matter with 
you, old Convulsions? What’s so funny, I’d like to know?” 

“Why — why, Bob,” Fitz said, getting upon his feet and wiping 
his pop eyes upon the long tails of his coat, “we’re a pair of precious 
ninnies. We’ve been traveling south all the time — instead of east 
as I thought, or west as you thought. And here we are in Africa. 
We’ve crossed the narrow part of the Mediterranean; and we’re now 
in the southern edge of Morocco — right over the Sahara desert!” 


ioo 


CHAPTER VII 

FITZ MEE MAGNETIZES THE SPRING 



OB looked very sober, and said nothing; and 
Fitz continued: 


“So you see we were both wrong; we for- 
got that the sun is south at noon — that’s all. 
Isn’t it funny?” and again the goblin laughed. 


“I don’t think it very funny,” the boy re- 


plied, pouting his lips, and looking very glum. 

“You don’t?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Why don’t you?” 

“Because here we are in the desert — away south of where we 
ought to be; and the selector won’t work, and we can’t go back — 
can’t go in any direction but south. If we keep on, we’ll just come to 
the south pole — that’s all.” 

“Say!” the goblin cried. “I never thought of that, Bob. That’s 
so; and we’re in a fix, sure.” Then, after wrinkling his forehead 
and blinking thoughtfully for a few moments: “Well, there’s just 
one thing to do: we’ve got to fix the selector — got to find out what 


IOI 


The Little Green Goblin 


ails it and set it right. We’ll travel on till we comcjto an oasis; and 
there we’ll descend to the ground, and I’ll tinker the machine.’’ 

“Why can’t you do it here and now?” Bob suggested. 

“I’m afraid I might get us into worse trouble, Bob; might shake 
the thing up in some way that would cause it to run away with us. 
It’s tricky sometimes. No, I’ll wait till we come to an oasis ; then I’ll 
work at it on the ground.” 

“All right. And I’ll work my teeth upon some ripe dates and 
any other fruit I can find.” 

“That reminds me, Bob,” — setting the balloon in motion, — “that 
we haven’t had any dinner; and it’s getting late in the afternoon. 
Why didn’t you mention that you were getting hungry?” 

“Oh! I’m not very hungry; you know I had a big meal that I 
got from the old woman’s table. But you haven’t eaten anything 
since morning, have you, Fitz?” 

“No, but I’ll eat now as we go along; and you can join me.” 

“Oh, can I?” contemptuously. 

“Certainly.” 

“You’re very kind.” 

“Aren’t you hungry?” 

“Not hungry enough to take pills.” 

“Bob, I tell you they’re not pills; they re food tablets.” 

“They’re pills all the same, Fitz; and I won’t take ’em when I 


102 


The Little Green Goblin 

can get anything else. And I think I’ll find some fruit when we 
reach an oasis.” 

The goblin said no more; but silently opened the hand-satchel, 
and took out and swallowed a number of the tiny tablets and pellets, 
smacking his lips in a manner that made his companion turn up his 
nose in disgust. 

The sun was slowly sinking in the west. Bob had the binocular 
to his eyes and was sweeping the southern horizon. Suddenly he 
cried : 

“Look! Look, Fitz! We’re coming to a great city!” 

The goblin smiled pityingly, wagging his head and rolling his 

eyes. 

“Don’t you see it?” the boy asked eagerly. 

The goblin nodded, still smiling. Bob leveled his glass upon 
the distant city and continued to observe it. It was a most beautiful 
sight, that city. It stood upon the bank of a blue lake ; and its white 
walls, its domes and spires, glistened in the rays of the declining sun. 
But gradually it began to fade away; and little by little it disappeared 
from view. 

“Why — why,” the boy cried, “what’s become of it, Fitz? I can’t 
see it any more. What’s become of it?” 

“Don’t you know?” the goblin snickered. 

“No.” 


103 


The Little Green Goblin 


“You didn’t see any city, Bob.” 

“I know I did! Think I can’t see?” 

“Yes, you can see; but you didn’t see any city.” 

“What did I see, then?” 

“A mirage.” 

“Oh!” 

“You know what I mean?” 

“Yes. Was that all it was?” 

“That was all.” 

“Well, it was beautiful, anyway. And there’s another one — 
a lot of grass and green trees this time.” 

“That’s an oasis.” 

“Maybe it’s just another mirage.” 

“No, it’s an oasis. See! It’s getting closer and clearer all the 
time. There’s where we’ll stop.” 

The swift speed of their air-vessel soon brought them to the 
green oasis. There they descended to the earth, pumped the tank 
full of air, and firmly secured the balloon to a tree. Then Fitz set 
about to repair the selector, and Bob began to search for fruit. The 
boy was successful in his quest and soon returned to his comrade, his 
cap full of luscious dates. The goblin was sitting upon the ground, 
his back against the side of the basket, apparently glum and half 
asleep. 

104 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Have some, Fitz,” the boy mumbled, bis mouth full 
offering a share to his companion. Fitz drowsily shook his 

“Did you get the selector fixed?” Bob inquired. 

The goblin nodded, batting his eyes. 

“I — I guess I’ve got it fixed,” he said. 

“What was the matter with it?” 

“I don’t know, Bob. I never had a 
selector act like this one does; Fm afraid 
it’s permanently magnetized.” 

“Why, what would put it in that 
condition, Fitz?” 

“Oh! I don’t know, I guess.” 

“Yes, you do. Out with it.” 

“I don’t want to scare you, Bob, 
but—” 

“Scare me? Pooh! Out with it.” 

“Well, down here in Africa somewhere 
— I don’t know just where — there’s a mag- 
netic mountain; and we goblins have had 
trouble with it. Whenever we get within 
the zone of its power with our balloons, 
it magnetizes our selectors so they 
won’t work right; and if we get too 


of fruit, 
head. 



105 


The Little Green Goblin 


close, it draws us to it — and we have great trouble in getting away. 
Some of my countrymen have had to abandon their balloons and walk 
miles and miles, and then send a wireless message home for help.” 

“Is that so ?” — mouth agape. 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“And you think that’s what ails our selector?” 

“I’m afraid it is.” 

“Well, what’ re we going to do about it?” 

“There’s very little we can do — if that’s what’s the matter with 
our machine. It seems to be all right now; but you must remember 
we’re on the ground, with other mountains between us and the mag- 
netic peak — breaking its power, as it were. Probably when we’re 
high in the air again, we’ll encounter the old difficulty.” 

“Then we’d better sail as close to the earth as we can, Fitz, till 
we’re beyond the influence of that strange mountain.” 

“That’s a good idea, Bob; I’d already thought of it. And, as 
the sun’s almost down and we’ll need to see our way when travelling 
close to the ground, I think we’d better spend the night here, don’t 
you?” 

“Yes. But — but say, Fitz!” 

“What?” 

“If you need to send a wireless phone message to Goblinland, 
how do you do it?” 

106 


The Little Green Goblin 


Fitz Mee silently drew from his pocket a small shiny metallic 
box, and opened it. It contained a tiny telephone instrument, per- 
fect in every detail — speaking-tube, receiver and all. 

“My!” the boy exclaimed in admiration and wonder. “Isn’t 
it pretty and isn’t it little! But how do you use it, Fitz?” 

“Just like you use any telephone,” the goblin replied compla- 
cently. 

“Do you take down that teenty-weenty little receiver and call up 
central in Goblinland?” 

“Yes.” 

“And central gives you whatever number you want?” 

The goblin nodded. 

“Say!” the boy cried excitedly. “Call up some one right now, 
Fitz.” 

The goblin shook his head. 

“Yes,” Bob insisted; “I want to see how it works.” 

“I don’t dare to.” 

“Don’t dare to?” 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“There’s a law against using the instrument, except for messages 
of grave importance.” 

“Oh!” 


107 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Uh-huh.” 

Fitz Mee closed the little box and returned it to his pocket; Bob 
resumed the munching of his ripe fruit. 

“Won’t you have some, Fitz?” he suggested, temptingly display- 
ing it to the goblin’s gaze. 

“Uk-uh!” Fitz grunted. 

“Better try some; it’s fine.” 

“It would make me sick.”' 

“Pshaw!”— incredulously, contemptuously. 

“I’m afraid it would; I’m afraid it will make you sick.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Huh! Fruit never makes me sick; I can eat bushels of it.” 
“You mean you could.” 

“What?” 

“You could — when you were a boy.” 

“Well?” 

“Well, you’re part goblin now.” 

“Well, I’m not!” 

“You’ll see, Bob.” . 

“Well, I will see; I’ll eat this fruit and prove to you, Fitzy, that 
I’m just a healthy boy.” 

“All right,” the goblin grinned. 

108 


The Little Green Goblin 


Bob finished his fruit — to the last date. Then he went to the 
great spring near at hand, and lay down and drank his fill. He set 
out to return to his comrade; but suddenly he became so ill that he 
dropped upon the ground and rolled and writhed and groaned. Fitz 
came flying to him. 

“Here, Bob,” he said quietly, “take this,” offering the wriggling 
boy a tablet. 

“Oh! pills! pills! pills!” Bob moaned. But he took the tab- 
let and downed it; and soon he was relieved of the fruit — and his 
pain. Sheepishly he got on his feet and sauntered back to the bal- 
loon, crestfallen and subdued. All Fitz Mee said to him was : 

“I guess you’ll know enough to stick to goblin diet after this.” 

And Bob made no reply. 

The sun had gone down ; dusky shadows were gathering from far 
and near and throwing themselves prone upon the desert sands. The 
air, that all the afternoon had been so hot, was growing chill. 

“I’m sleepy,” Bob remarked, dropping upon the warm earth and 
stretching full length. 

“Well, you mustn’t go to sleep there,” Fitz replied. 

“Why?” the boy queried. 

“You’ll see why when it grows a little darker. Wild beasts will 
be prowling around here, after food and water.” 

“They will?” raising himself upon his elbow and glancing appre- 
hensively around. 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Yes, indeed,” the goblin answered. 

“Lions?” 

“Yes.” 

“Leopards?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“And hyenas and jackals?” 

The goblin nodded. 

“Well, where are we going to sleep, then?” 

“We’ll let the balloon rise to the level of the tops of these palm 
trees, tie it there, and sleep in the car.” 

“That’ll do. But I’ll bet we don’t get much sleep ; the wild ani- 
mals will raise such a rumpus, roaring and howling and fighting. 
Won’t they?” 

“It’s likely.” 

“Dear — dear! I wish I was back home.” 

“No, you don’t, Bob.” 

“I do, too. You promised to take me to Goblinland where 
everything was to be lovely ; and you’ve got me away down here in the 
Sahara desert where there’s nothing but sand and wild beasts. And 
you’ve got me in such a fix I can’t eat a little fruit, even, without 
getting sick; and now I’m to have no sleep. Bah!” 

“That’s all that ails you, Bob.” 

“What?” 


no 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“You’re sleepy — and cross.” 

“I’m not cross.” 

“Well — well, we won’t argue the matter.” 

“I’ll argue if I want to, old Epilepsy.” 

“Say, Bob,” — pleasantly. 

No reply. 

“Bob.” 

“Huh !” — ungraciously. 

“I think I know what we can do to send the wild animals about 
their business if they bother us.” 

“What?” — with a show of interest. 

“That is,” with a reflective shake of the head, “if we didn’t throw 
overboard, when we were about to sink in the Atlantic, the stuff we 
need.” 

“What is it, Fitz?” 

“Magnetic powder.” 

“There’s a bottle of it in the locker; I saw it there this morning. 
But what on earth are you going to do with it?” 

“I’ll tell you. I’m going to sprinkle some of it in the spring; 
and it’ll magnetize the water. Then any animal that comes for a 
drink will get a shock that will stir up its ideas — and send it flying. 
Won’t that be great?” 

“Great?” Bob cried, capering about in glee. “Yes, indeed, Fitz! 


i r i 


The Little Green Goblin 


And won’t it be funny to hear ’em and see ’em? I’m not a bit sleepy 
now. Let’s fix the spring right now.” 

Soon they had magnetized the spring, and had snuggled down in 
the car of their balloon, to spend the night. By that time it was 
quite dark; so they partook of a few food-tablets and drink-pellets, 
and then composed themselves to rest— out of reach of any beast that 
might come prowling around. Bob dropped into a doze. A roar 
like distant, muttering thunder roused him. He sat up and rubbed 
his eyes; then he nudged his sleeping companion. 

“Huh!” ejaculated Fitz, waking with a start. 

“I heard something roaring — sounded like thunder,” the boy 
explained. 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know; I wasn’t wide enough awake to tell. There — 
there it goes again.” 

“That’s a lion out on the sands,” chuckled the goblin; “he’s com- 
ing for a drink. Now the fun’ll begin, Bob.” 

“And listen! What are those other sounds, Fitz?” 

“Jackals, barking and hyenas howling. They’re all coming at 
once. There’ll be a circus when they gather at the spring.” 

The two aeronauts giggled and shrugged their shoulders, in ner- 
vous but delicious expectancy. The moon made the night almost as 
light as day; but soon great dark shapes and shadows were to be 


1 12 


The Little Green Goblin 


Seen approaching the oasis, from various directions. The lion roared 
defiantly, the jackals barked snappishly and the hyenas howled dole- 
fully. 

“I see the lion,” Bob whispered excitedly. “There! He’s just 
coming in among the trees. But what’s that other animal creeping 
along away out there in the bright moonlight?” 

“A leopard,” Fitz replied. 

“And that pack of little fellows are jackals?” 

“Yes.” 

“And those ugly scrawny ones are hyenas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, my!” the boy exclaimed gleefully. “Talk about a circus, 
Fitz ; I call it a menagerie. This is a free show; and you and I have 
box seats.” Then thoughtfully, and with a little shiver, “And Fm 
mighty glad we have — and right above the ring. I — 

He was interrupted by a roar that seemed to shake the slender 
fronds of the palm trees and rock the balloon. The lion was directly 
beneath them, smelling over the ground where they had been. The 
two small comrades cuddled close together upon the locker, held 
each other’s hands, and strained their eyes and ears to see and hear 
all that was going on. Presently the leopard, too, was among the 
trees and, like the lion, was nosing from one spot to another; and 


The Little Green Goblin 


the jackals and hyenas had ranged themselves along the border of the 
little oasis, and were indulging in a discordant serenade. 

“Ugh!” the boy grunted in disgust. “Those cowardly things out 
there make me lonesome with their mournful sounds.” 

“Me, too,” the goblin admitted, nodding. Then he whispered 
sharply: “There — there, Bob. The 
lion’s going to the spring. See 
him in that patch of moon- 
light?” 

“Yes.” 

“And now he’s right at the 
edge of the water. See him 
— see him?” 

“Uh-huh. And there’s the 
leopard coming up on the 
other side.” 

The lion advanced majestically to 
the edge of the pool. He looked askance at his slender cousin, 
the leopard; and then he touched his nose to the clear water. In- 
stantly he sprang backward, bristling, sneezing and shaking his head, 
in surprise and anger. The leopard looked on in wonder at her 
counsin’s strange behavior; and the lion glared fiercely at her. The 
two aeronauts hugged each other and laughed softly. 



The Tittle Green Goblin 


Again the lion essayed to slake his burning thirst at the glassy 
pool; and again he retreated in rage and confusion. Attributing 
his trouble to the leopard, evidently, he made a vicious slap at her 
with his great paw. She sprang aside, spitting and snarling. The 
lion pursued her; and, to escape, she sprang upon the slender trunk of 
the palm tree to whose top the balloon was tied, and began a nimble 
and quick ascent. 

“Oo-h!” Bob gasped. 

“Murder!” croaked Fitz Mee. 

Then, instantly, he jumped from the locker; and opened and shut 
the valve of the air-tank, three or four times in quick succession. 

“Pst! pst! pst!” hissed the escaping air, and the leopard, more 
alarmed at the unknown danger above than at the known danger be- 
low, gave a yowl of fright and leaped to the ground and loped out of 
sight. 

Bob heaved a sigh of relief. “Fitz,” he whispered, “playing 
with wild beasts is like playing with fire; a fellow’s likely to burn his 
fingers.” 

The goblin nodded; then he jerked out: 

“But look at the lion ! Bob, look at the lion !” 

The noble animal was not content to go without a drink; and 
once more he was drawing near the spring, cautiously, slowly. A 
third time his nose and tongue touched the water; and a third time he 


The Little Green Goblin 


sprang back, startled and enraged. And this time he rashly spatted 
the surface of the pool with his paw, and let out a hoarse roar of fu- 
tile rage, as the treacherous liquid sent a stream of electricity ting- 
ling through his anatomy. 

The two aeronauts were hunkered upon the locker, leaning far 
over the rim of the basket and laughing heartily but softly. On a 
sudden the goblin’s hands slipped and he fell headlong from the car 
— turning completely over in mid air and lighting plump astride the 
lion’s back! 


116 


CHAPTER VIII 
THE BALLOONISTS ENCOUNTER ARABS 



ITZ MEE let out a frantic yell as he descended; 
Bob echoed it. “I’m a goner!” squeaked the gob- 


\jj J lin as he alighted on the lion’s back. 

TP J “Goner!” screamed the boy, in unison. 

The lion, no doubt coupling the sudden ar- 


rival of the little green sprite with the unusual condition of the spring 
he had always known, went mad with fright. He stuck his tail be- 
tween his hind legs, gave a snort, followed by a prolonged and dole- 
ful whine, and scampered away among the trees and across the sands 
of the desert, the goblin clinging to his mane. 

“Oh, dear — dear!” moaned the boy. “What am I to do? What 
can I do? Poor old Fitz Mee! Poor old Convulsions! The lion’ll 
shake him off out there — and — and eat him up! And I can’t help 
him! I don’t dare to go to his aid; the other beasts would eat me! 
Was ever a boy in such a pickle! Oh, I wish I was back home! I 
do — I do! I was a fool to come on such a wild adventurous trip, 
anyhow! Poor old Fitz Mee! Poor old Epilepsy! Gone! Lost! 
And here I am down here in the desert — with miles of trackless sands 


The Little Green Goblin 


all around me; and with no means of getting away — except an old 
balky balloon! Oh, dear — dear!” 

He wrung his hands and wept. At last, however, he muttered 
sleepily: “Poor unlucky old Fitz! He’s always getting into 
trouble and danger; he’s always tumbling out of the balloon. I’ve 
rescued him two or three times; but I can’t go on rescuing him every 
few hours. He’ll have to look out for himself this time; I can’t do 
anything for him. And,” — yawning, — “I’m so — so sleepy. I’ve just 
got to — sleep ; that’s all — all — there is — ” 

He sank upon the bottom of the car and lost all sense of his 
surroundings. 

“Bob! Oh, Bob!” Someone was calling him — someone in the 
far distance, he thought. 

“Huh!” ever so drowsily. 

“Bob ! Bob Taylor ! Wake up !” 

“Hel — hello!” the boy grunted. 

“Here! Wake up, you lazy pest! Do you hear me? Ah-hah! 
Do you feel me?” 

“Ouch!” — petulantly — “Quit! Quit, I say!” 

Someone was twitching and pinching the lad’s ear^ He stirred, 
opened his eyes, flounced over upon his stomach and raised his head. 
There stood the Little Green Goblin of Goblinville, grinning down 
at him. 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Fitz!” the boy cried, springing to his feet and holding out his 
hand. 

“Fitz Mee!” 

The goblin continued to grin and bat his pop eyes — saucily, per- 
versely. Daylight was just breaking. 

“When — when did you get back?” Bob inquired, embarrassed 
by his comrade’s manner. 

“Just got back, my friend,” Fitz croaked hoarsely; “and a time 
I’ve had getting you awake. I called and called from the ground, 
but you slept on. So I had to climb the tree; and then yell at you — 
and yell again and again, and shake you, and pinch you. You must 
have been greatly worried over my disappearance and danger! Oh, 
yes! Sure! You couldn’t sleep at all, you were so worried!” 

“Fitz, I was worried,” the boy replied sheepishly. 

“Of course!” the goblin sneered. “That’s what I said — you 
were so worried you couldn’t sleep!” 

“You may say what you please,” Bob insisted, “but I was wor- 
ried — worried like everything. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“And no doubt you searched for me, seeking to rescue me from 
my perilous position!” Fitz continued sarcastically. “Why, to be 
sure you did! Oh, my! — yes, indeed!” 

“No, I didn’t hunt for you,” Bob returned thickly, a hint of tears, 
in his voice. 


1 19 


The Little Green Goblin 


“You didn’t?” snappishly. 
“No.” 


“Well, 



why didn’t you — huh?” 

“How could I, Fitz, with wild beasts all 
around me?” 

“Well,” — crustily, — “maybe there wasn’t 
wild beasts all around me! Hey, Bob Taylor!” 

“You’re unreasonable, Fitz!” angry now. 
“Of course, you were in danger. But what 
would have been the use of my rushing into 
danger when I couldn’t help you a bit by doing 
it? I couldn’t whip all those wild animals and 
snatch you away from them. Now, could I?” 
“No, I suppose you couldn’t,”— sullenly and 
rather reluctantly admitting the truth. “But it 
did make me mad , Bob, to find you sleeping so 
comfortably and soundly after the terrible time 
I’ve had.” 

“Did you have a bad time, Fitz?” 

“Did I? Well, I rather guess I did!” 

“How far did the lion carry you?” 

“About a hundred miles.” 

“Oh, not that far!” 


120 


*The Little Green Goblin 


“How do you know, smarty? Y ou weren’t there !” 

“Well — well! Maybe he did. But why didn’t you stop him 
before he went so far?” 

“Stop him! Bob Taylor, I just wish you’d have to take a ride on 
a lion once! Stop him! I did try to. I yelled and yelled at him to 
stop ; but he just went the faster.” 

“Well, why didn’t you let loose and roll off, then?” 

“Just because I couldn't — that’s why.” 

“You couldn't ?" 

“No, I couldn't!" irritably. 

“Why?” 

“Why? Bob, you’re foolish! Just because he went so fast I 
was afraid to let loose — afraid the fall might hurt me.” 

Bob laughed. 

“Laugh!” muttered Fitz, gritting his teeth. “You think you’re 
smart!” 

“But how did you get off? How did you get away from the 
lion?” the boy suggested. 

“He stumbled and fell — and threw me off.” 

“Oh!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Well, didn’t he try to eat you up, then?” 

“Eat me up? No* he was dead.” 


I 2 1 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Dead?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“Why, what killed him?” 

“I don’t know; I didn’t stop to find out.” 

“What do you think killed him?” 

“I think he just ran himself to death.” 

“Oh, Fitzl” 

“Or he was scared to death.” 

“Take care!” 

“Or died from heart disease.” 

“Fitz Mee, you’re yarning to me; you’ve been yarning to me 
about your adventure all the way through.” 

“Look here!” Fitz cried, grinning impishly. “Wasn’t I on the 
lion’s back the last you saw of me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And wasn’t he carrying me off across the sands?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, haven’t I come back alive — without a hurt or scratch?” 
“Yes, I guess so.” 

“Well, then, you’ve no good reason to doubt my story. And, 
Bob, I can tell you something else — something that will surprise you 
and test your credulity.” 

“Let’s hear it.” 


122 


The Little Green Goblin 

“How did I get back here — from a hundred miles away, do you 
suppose?” 

“I’ve no idea.” 

“I fell in with a caravan of Arabs, and they brought me.” 

“What!” 

“Yes.” 

“Where are the Arabs now?” 

“Right out there. See ’em?” 

Bob looked in the direction indicated. There, sure enough, was 
a number of Arabs with horses and camels rapidly approaching the 
oasis. 

The boy turned to his companion and murmured reproachfully: 
“Fitz, you’re a big story-teller — that’s what you are. Just now you 
happened to see those Arabs, and you put them into your story. 
You’ve been spinning a big yarn to me. I’ll bet the lion didn’t carry 
you but a short distance out on the sands; then you came to your 
senses, got over your surprise, and rolled of! and made your way 
back. I believe you’ve been here ever since shortly after I went to 
sleep. Now, haven’t you?” 

Fitz Mee grinned broadly; but would make no reply to the 
charge. Instead, he said: 

“Bob, we’d better be getting away from here. Those Arabs have 
been travelling all night, taking advantage of the cool air; and now 


123 


The Little Green Goblin 


they’ll spend the hot hours of the day under the trees of this oasis 
near this spring.” 

“My!” Bob ejaculated sharply. 

“What?” his companion asked, in keen concern. 

“I was 


the spring — 
charged with 

“Whew!” 
goblin. “I 
thought o f 
better get 
here before 
discover what 
the spring, Bob. 
mad when they find 
might shoot us with 
they carry. Sh ! 
with a camel now.” 

The two aero- 
The Arab swiftly 



just thinking about 
about its being 
\ electricity.” 

whistled the 
hadn’t 
that. We’d 
away from 
those Arabs 
we’ve done to 
They’ll be 
out; and they 
the long guns 
There comes one 


nauts kept perfectly quiet, 
approached the spring, leading his 
camel and hugging an empty waterskin to his breast. The beast of 
burden tried to get at the tempting water, and its owner tried to keep 
it back, scolding and jerking at the halter-rope. But the camel suc- 

124 


The Little Green Goblin 


ceeded in touching the water with its nose; and immediately it surged 
backward, coughing and shivering. The Arab, in an effort to control 
the frightened animal, chanced to set his foot in the edge of the pool. 
Then he gave a startled yell and danced about on one leg, grimacing 
and grunting. The whole thing was so funny that Bob could not 
restrain a snort of laughter. The Arab cast his gaze aloft. Then 
he yelled louder than before, dropped the haltcr-rope, and sped 
away to tell his companions of his wonderful experience and dis- 
covery. 

“You’ve played the mischief, Bob!” Fitz Mee grumbled, but 
grinning in spite of himself. “Untie that rope ; let’s get out of here.” 

The boy was prompt to obey. Fitz released the air; and 
the balloon began to rise slowly, steadily, floating out over 
the shining sands. At that moment, however, the whole band of 
Arabs put in an appearance at the edge of the oasis; and, with shouts, 
and imprecations, raised their guns and fired at the rising air-ship. 
The bullets whistled around the two adventurers, causing them to 
drop precipitately to the bottom of the car. 

“You hurt, Bob?” Fitz inquired. 

“No. You?” 

“No.” 

“Bully!” 

“That’s what 1 say!” 

125 


The Little Green Goblin 


“But, Fitz, that was a close shave.” 

“Too close for comfort.” 

“Look here! One bullet went through the basket.” 

“Yes and look there! Another one went through the balloon- 
bag.” 

“They didn’t do any harm, though — eh?” 

“No.” 

“I’m glad .they didn’t. And now I want to get out of this coun- 
try; I’m tired of it.” 

“So am I. And Til set the needle north-east, for Goblinville; 
and away we’ll go. Hurrah!” 

“Hurrah!” the boy echoed. 

“Well — well!” the goblin mumbled irritably, fumbling at the 
selector. 

“What’s the matter now , Fitz?” Bob cried impatiently, stooping 
to ascertain the cause of his companion’s exclamatory remark. 

“The selector’s out of fix again, Bob. The needle won’t point 
any way but south.” 

“And — and, Fitz!” 

“Huh!” springing erect. 

“See how fast we’re going directly south.” 

“Yes,” nodding gravely, “and there’s hardly any power at all 
turned on ” 


126 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“Shut it all off, Fitz.” 

“I will,” croaked the goblin. And he did so. Still the balloon 
slowly drifted southward. 

“What are we to do, Fitz?” 

“Indeed I don’t know,” the little green fellow answered deject- 
edly. 

“We’re going faster again.” 

“I see.” 

“Well, we’ve got to do some — ” The boy broke off abruptly; 
then cried in great excitement: “Look! Look, Fitz!” 

“What?” screeched Fitz Mee, nervously dancing up and down. 
“What? Where?” 

“A mountain!” yelled Bob. “See it? Away to the south! A 
big shiny mountain!” 

“Yes!” moaned the goblin. “And that’s what’s drawing us!” 
He cast a despairing look behind them. 

“Why — why,” he jerked out, “Bob, the Arabs are following us!” 

“Oh, dear — dear!” muttered the boy. “Now we are lost!” 

“We don’t dare to stop,” Fitz whimpered; “the Arabs’ll get- us!” 

“And we don’t dare to go ahead,” Bob whined; “we’ll fly 
against the side of that mountain and burst ourselves all to pieces!” 

“Oh, dear!” groaned the goblin. 

“Oh, dear!” moaned the boy. 

127 


The Little Green Goblin 

“Bob!” 

“What, Fitz?” 

“Which would you rather — be eaten up by the Arabs, or bursted 
up by the mountain?” 

“Why, neither , you silly old thing!” pettishly. 

“We’ve got to choose, Bob.” 

“Well, we haven't!” 

“What else can we do, Bob?” 

“I know!” brightly. “An idea has just come to me, Fitz.” 

“Oh! what is it, Bob?” joyfully. 

“You’ll see — in time. Stop the balloon.” 

“Bob, I can't stop it!” 

“That’s so. Well, pump up the tank and send the balloon to the 
ground.” 

“It’ll spill us out, Bob, at the rate we’re going.” 

“Let it spill!” — recklessly. 

“All right! Here goes!” 

Fitz worked industriously at the pump ; and the air-ship began to 
drop swiftly. Soon it was within a few feet of the ground, flying 
along rapidly. 

“Hold on to the car when it strikes,” Bob cautioned his com- 
panion, “or the balloon, relieved of our weight, will fly up — and 
away from us.” 


128 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I understand,” Fitz replied. 

Bump ! The car struck the earth, throwing its occupants sprawl- 
ing; but they hung on. Bump! Bump! Then it dragged along 
the sand for some distance; and at last came to a stop. 

“Pump the air-tank up good and tight, Fitz,” Bob commanded; 
“we don’t want to lose our air-ship and be left out here in the desert.” 

“But the Arabs’ll get us, anyhow,” Fitz complained disconso- 
lately. “There they come — only a few miles away!” 

“Let ’em come!” the boy cried gleefully. “They’ll be sorry l 
Let me have that hand-satchel.” 

“But what’ re you going to do, Bob?” 

“Just wait and seel” was the tantalizing answer. 


129 





I 
















CHAPTER IX 

A WIRELESS MESSAGE TO HEADQUARTERS 

HE goblin silently handed the small black 
satchel to his comrade. The boy opened it 
and took out two of the tiny bottles, remark- 
ing as he did so: 

“I — I rather hate to do it; but I’ve got 
to — we’ve got to save ourselves.” 

“But what do you mean to do, Bob?” his companion insisted. 
“Tell me — before the Arabs get here.” 

The boy silently shook a few tablets into his palm from each of 
the two bottles. Then he queried : 

“Fitz, does the — the effect of these tablets — these gob-tabs — last 
forever? Tell me the truth.” 

“The effect lasts as long as the person eats goblin diet, Bob. 
That’s the reason I’ve insisted on your eating nothing else. See?” 
“Uh-huh.” 

“Well, now what’ re you going to do?” 

“Going to give those Arabs some gob-tabs.” 

“How are you going to get them to take the gobs?” asked the lit- 
tle green sprite, grinning broadly. 

131 



The Little Green Goblin 


“You just watch me and see,” Bob 
replied complacently; “and do what- 
ever I tell you to do.” 

“All right. But you’ve got some 
giant-tabs there, too. What are 
you going to do with those?” 
“You’ll see. Hist! Here 
come the Arabs. Now, 
don’t you hesitate to do 
what I tell you, Fitz.” 

“I won’t, Bob.” 

The Arabs, some on horses 
and others on camels, came gal- 
loping to the spot, raising a great 
cloud of sand. They formed in 
a circle round the two diminu- 
tive aeronauts and their bal- 
loon ; and dismounted and stood 
silently, sullenly scowling. 

At last the sheik of the tribe 
advanced and said: 

“You two are devils. You’ve 
poisoned the spring where we drink and refresh 



132 


The Little Green Goblin 


ourselves and our beasts. You must die; we’re going to kill you.” 

Bob replied composedly: “Great sheik, we are magicians, not 
devils. We worked enchantment upon the spring, but did not poison 
it. As soon as the sun shines a few hours, the waters of the spring 
will again be pure and sweet^purer and sweeter than ever before. 
To convince you that we’re magicians, we’re ready to perform before 
you. See! I will make a giant of my green comrade.” 

The boy gave a giant-tab to the goblin and motioned him to 
swallow it. Unhesitatingly Fitz obeyed; and almost immediately he 
grew and swelled to gigantic size. With gestures and cries of amaze- 
ment the Arabs drew back. Several of them touched their fore- 
heads and muttered strange words; others prostrated themselves and 
hid their faces upon their extended arms. But the fierce old sheik 
gave no sign of wonder or fear. Instead, he said firmly, boldly: 

“Devils can work magic upon devils; but devils cannot work 
magic upon Allah’s elect. I’ll put you to the test; and if you fail, — 
as you will! — you die. Give me and my children of your magic 
medicine.” 

At a word from their sheik, the Arabs formed a line. Then the 
fierce old warrior of the desert said: 

“My children, these devils cannot injure you with their magic 
medicine. If they succeed in making giants of us, we shall then be 
able to overcome all our enemies; if they fail, we shall be as we are 

133 


The Little Green Goblin 


— and the devils shall die.” Then to Bob: “Give us of your devil 
drugs.” 

The boy stepped forward and droped a gob-tab into the out- 
stretched palm of each warrior. The sheik gave a signal ; and twenty 
red mouths flew open and twenty gob-tabs disappeared. At the same 
moment Bob took a giant-tab. And a few minutes later two giants 
stood triumphantly grinning down upon twenty bearded and turbaned 
pygmies ! 

“Now, sheik,” Bob roared briskly and cheerily, “no doubt you’re 
convinced that we’re what we claim to be — great magicians. But 
we don’t mean to work you any injury, now that we’re big and you’re 
small; although you meant to put us to death, just because you were 
big and we were small. You’ll come back to your natural size all 
right, in a few days. And we’re not going to rob you; just going to 
borrow two of your camels.” 

The sheik had stood silently staring at his diminutive warriors 
and inspecting his own shrunken limbs. But now he piped shrilly: 

“Allah is great! Allah is great! But what use can you have 
for our camels? You are so huge that they cannot bear you!” 

“Say!” Bob muttered in consternation. “Fitz, that’s a fact. 
What are we to do? I meant to take two of the camels to carry us 
and our balloon out of reach of the power of the magnetic mountain. 
What are we to do?” 


134 



Two giants stpod triumphantly grinning down upon twenty pygmies. 



The Little Green Goblin 


“I don’t know,” the goblin-giant grumbled surlily. 

“Well, can’t you think of some plan?” 

“You’re the one, Roberty-Boberty, that’s making the plans this 
time.” And Fitz Mee grinned a grin that made his big fat face look 
simply awful. 

“I know,” Bob admitted ruefully. “But won’t you help a fellow 
out, when he’s doing the best he can?” 

“Say, Bob!” 

“What?” — eagerly, expectantly. 

“I’ll tell you what! We’ll have to take gob-tabs and go back to 
goblin size. Then the camels can carry us.” 

“Yes, but we couldn’t manage the camels — couldn’t get on ’em, 
even,” the boy-giant objected. “Could we?” 

“I’m afraid we couldn’t,” the goblin-giant admitted, shaking his 
head. “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“Oh, dear!” groaned Bob. 

“Oh, dear!” seconded Fitz. 

“Say!” squeaked the old sheik, looking up at the two giants. 
“What are we Arabs to do? We are so small we cannot mount and 
manage our beasts.” 

“I don’t know,” rumbled Bob. 

“And I don’t know,” mumbled Fitz. 

“Well, you’re a nice pair of magicians — you are! screeched the 

135 


The Little Green Goblin 


sheik, pulling at his long beard. “Don’t you know anything you can 
do to help us out of our quandary?” 

Each giant sadly shook his big head. 

“Well,” the old sheik screeched, “I know what you’ve got to do 
— you’ve got to give our beasts some of your magic medicine, and 
shrink ’em.” 

“Oh!” Bob ejaculated. 

“Oh!” Fitz exclaimed. 

“That’s a good idea,” the boy-giant remarked. 

“A splendid idea,” the goblin-giant agreed. 

“And we can give giant-tabs to the two camels we’re going to 
use,” Bob suggested. 

“Of course we can,” Fitz assented. 

“Well, here goes!” 

The two giants went to work. After repeated trials they suc- 
ceeded in getting the camels and horses to swallow the magic medi- 
cine. All those animals to whom they gave gob-tabs shrunk to pygmy 
size; and the two camels to whom they administered giant-tabs 
grew to giant size. Then the old sheik and his bearded warriors, 
looking very dejected and forlorn, got upon their tiny beasts and rode 
away over the sands. 

Bob and Fitz lashed their balloon upon the back of one of the 
giant camels, and mounted and set out toward the north. All that 

136 


The Little Green Goblin 


day they traveled and far into the night, the great desert animals cov- 
ering the ground rapidly. At last they stopped at an oasis; and there 
rested until morning. Then they tested the selector of the balloon 
and, to their unbounded delight, found it in perfect working order. 
They had got beyond the influence of the magnetic mountain. 

“Now,” said Bob, “we’ll take some gob-tabs and give some to the 
camels; then we’ll be all ready to take to the air again.” 

They carried out the plan thus expressed. When they were once 
more ready to embark upon the tenuous tide of the air, Fitz Mee re- 
marked : 

“Now, I’ll telephone to Goblinland that we’re coming, that 
we’ll arrive there to-morrow.” He drew forth his wireless tele- 
phone, rang the tiny bell, and waited. Bob stood at his comrade’s 
side, alertly observant. Presently he saw the goblin give a start and 
heard him saying: 

“Hello! Hello! Is this Goblinland? It is, you say? All 
right. This is Fitz Mee. Yes, Fitz Mee. Yes , the Little Green 
Goblin. Uh-huh. Well, give me the mayor’s office. Yes— yes! 
the mayor’s office.” 

There was a momentary pause; and then: 

“Hello! Is this the mayor’s office in Goblinland? What? 
Huh? Is this the mayor’s office in Goblinland, I say? You can’t 
hear me? Well, I can’t hear you. I want to know if this is the 

137 


The Little Green Goblin 


mayor’s office in Goblinland. You say it is? Huh? Oh! All 
right. Well, is the mayor there? How’s that? Well, I want to 
speak to him, please.” 

Another momentary pause ; and then : 

“Hello! Hel- lo, Hel-/o/ Is this his honor, the mayor of Gob- 
linland? It is? How’s that? It isn’t? How’s that? What? 
Huh?” Bob began to snicker. “Oh! All right. Well, mayor, 
this is Fitz Mee. Fitz Mee, I say. No — no! Fitz Mee. No! 
Not Swiss cheese !” — Bob laughed outright; and the goblin scowled 
darkly. “F-i-t-z M-e-e, Fitz Mee. Oh! You understand now, do 
you? Well, I’ve got the boy. Yes. Why, I’ve been delayed by 
storms and misadventures. Yes. Yes, bad storms. We’ll get in 
to-morrow morning, I think. Hey? I — I know; but I hope your 
honor will pardon — what? Well, mayor, you don’t know what an 
awful time I’ve had with this boy.” Bob rolled upon the ground 
and roared. “Well, I’m very sorry. You’ll what — your honor? 
Please don’t say that! Oh! don’t say that!” The goblin’s face had 
gone white, Bob observed ; and the boy wondered what was the mat- 
ter. “Yes, to-morrow morning. Good-bye.” 

Fitz Mee rang off, returned the instrument to his pocket, and 
dropped upon the ground, pale and panting. 

“What is it, what’s the matter, Fitz?” Bob inquired kindly. 


138 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


The goblin drew his knees up to his chin and rolled his 

jr 

eyes and waggled his big head; but made no answer. 

“What is it?” the boy repeated. 

Fitz moaned, but made no other reply. 

“Tell me,” Bob insisted. 

The goblin shook his head. 

“I don’t dare to, Bob,” he said. 

“Why don’t you?” 

“I just don’t — that’s all.” 

“Well, let’s be off. I’m anxious to get 
back home.” 

“Back home?” springing nimbly to his 

feet. 

“Yes.” 

“Back horned 
“That’s what I said.” 

“But, Bob, you’re not going back 
home.” 

“But I am.” 

“I say you’re not!” 

“And I say I am!” 

“Bob, you cant!” 

“Fitz, I can!” 

139 


pop 



The Little Green Goblin 


“You shan't!” 

“I will!” 

“You’re a spoiled, stubborn boy, Roberty-Boberty Taylor.” 
“And you’re a contrary old goblin, Mr. Epilepsy Spasms Con- 
vulsions Fitz Mee. Now!” 

“Bob, you ought to be ashamed to call a comrade naughty 
names.” 

“I am; but you called me names first.” 

“I know I did; and I’m sorry. But, Bob, why do you desire to 
go back home?” 

“Because I’m tired of being away from home; because I’m tired 
of adventure. ’ v 

“But you haven’t seen Goblinland yet.” 

“I don’t care; I don’t want to see it, I — I guess.” 

“Yes, you do. And you must go with me, Bob.” 

“Why must I?” 

“Because.” 

“Well, because what?” 

“I hate to tell you.” 

“Yes, tell me.” 

“Because my head will come off, if you don’t.” 

Bob started. 

“Is that what the mayor told you?” he inquired. “Is that what 
made you turn so pale?” 


140 


The Little Green Goblin 


The goblin nodded gravely; and said: “Yes, he said if I didn’t 
have you in Goblinland by to-morrow forenoon, he’d have my head 
cut off.” 

“Why, he’s a cruel old tyrant!” the boy cried hotly. 

“No, he isn’t,” the goblin protested; “he has to do what he said 
he’d do. It’s the law, you know; the law that when one agrees to do 
a certain thing by a certain time, he must do it or suffer death.” 

“Well, such a fool law!” Bob muttered testily. “I don’t want 
to go to a country that has such laws; and I won’t.” 

“Bob, remember — if you don’t go with me, I’ll be killed.” 

The boy was silent for some moments. Then he said : 

“Well, Fitz, I’ll go with you — to save your life; but I wish I 
hadn’t come with you at all.” 

A few minutes later they were again off for Goblinland. 














































































































Vw 

























































































✓ 




















CHAPTER X 


ARRIVED IN GOBLINLAND 



LL that day and all that night the two daring ad- 
venturers traveled steadily and directly north-east- 
ward, and at the dawn of the next day they were 
floating high over western China. The air was thin 
and penetrating and both were shivering with cold. 

Fitz Mee, standing upon the locker and watching the sunrise 
through the binocular, observed: 

“We’re almost to our journey’s end, Bob.” 

“Almost to Goblinland?” the boy queried. 

“Yes; I can see it.” 

“Where — where?” Bob cried eagerly, mounting to his com- 
rade’s side. 

“See that mountain top a little to the left yonder?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, that’s Goblinland.” 

“Oo — h!” Bob muttered. “It must be a pretty cold place to 
live.” And his teeth chattered sympathetically at the thought. 

“No, it isn’t,” the goblin assured him. “You see Goblinland is 
really the crater of a volcano.” 


143 



The Little Green Goblin 


“The crater of a volcano?” said Bob, in mild consternation. 

“Yes,” Fitz laughed. “But you needn’t be alarmed, Bob; it’s 
an extinct volcano. Still the crust over it is so thin that the ground 
is always warm and the climate mild. Now we’re getting right over 
the place. Release the selector and pump up the air-tank; and we’ll 
soon cast anchor in port.” 

As they slowly descended Bob swept his eyes here and there, 
greedily taking in the scene. Goblinland was indeed the crater of 
an immense ancient volcano. The great pit was several miles in di- 
ameter and several hundred feet in depth, walled in by perpendicular 
cliffs of shiny, black, volcanic rock. Through the middle of this 
natural amphitheater ran a clear mountain brook; and on either side 
of the stream, near the center of the plain, were the* rows of tiny 
stone houses constituting Goblinville. Shining white roadways 
wound here and there, graceful little bridges spanned the brook, and 
groves of green trees and beds of blooming flowers were everywhere. 

“How beautiful!” Bob exclaimed involuntarily. 

“Yes,” the goblin nodded, his eyes upon the village below, “to 
me, at least; it’s my home.” 

“I know now why you goblins always travel in balloons,” the 
lad remarked; “you can’t get out of your country in any other way.” 

Again Fitz Mee nodded absent-mindedly. Then he said: 
“My people are out to welcome us, Bob. Look down there in the 
public square.” 


144 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

The boy did as directed. “What a lot of ’em, Fitz!” he tittered 
gleefully. “And what bright-colored clothes they wear — red and 
green and blue and all colors!” 

\ es, Fitz Mee answered. Then, after a momentary pause: 
“The mayor will be present to greet us, Bob. He’ll make a speech; 
and you must be very polite and respectful. See them waving at 
us — and hear them cheering!” 

A few minutes later the balloon had touched the earth and eager 
hands had grasped the anchor-rope. 

“Hello! Hello, Fitz Mee! Welcome home, Fitz Mee!” were 
the hearty greetings that arose on all sides. 

Fitz Mee stepped to the ground, bowing and smiling, and Bob 
silently followed his example. The balloon was dragged away and 
the populace closed in upon the new arrivals, elbowing and jostling 
one another and chuckling and cackling immoderately. 

“Shake!” they cried. “Give us a wag of your paw, Fitz Mee! 
Shake, Bob Taylor!” 

There were goblins great and goblins small, goblins short and 
goblins tall; goblins fat and goblins lean, goblins red and goblins 
green; goblins young and goblins old, goblins timid, goblins bold; 
goblins dark and goblins fair— goblins, goblins everywhere! 

Bob was much amused at their cries and antics and just a little 


The Little Green Goblin 


I” 


frightened at their exuberant friendliness. Fitz Mee shook hands 
with all comers, and chuckled and giggled good-naturedly. 

“Out of the way!” blustered a hoarse voice. “Out of the way 
for his honor, the mayor 

A squad of 
goblins, in blue 
and armed with 
ing their w ay 
packed crowd, 
hind them was the 
wrinkled old f el- 
long robe of pur- 
officers cleared 
and he advan- 
pously: 



rotund and husky 
police uniforms 
maces, came forc- 
through the 
Immediately be- 
mayor, a pursy, 
low wearing a 
pie velvet. The 
a space for him, 
ced and said pom- 

“Welcome, 
Fitz Mee, known 
the world over as 
the Little Green 
Goblin of Goblinville. I proclaim you the bravest, if not the speedi- 
est, messenger and minister Goblinland has ever known. Again, 
welcome home; and welcome to your friend and comrade, Master 
Robert Taylor of Yankeeland. I trust that he will find his stay 

146 


The Little Green Goblin 


among us pleasant, and that he will in no way cause us to regret that 
we have made the experiment of admitting a human being — and a 
boy at that!— to the sacred precincts of Goblinville. The freedom 
of the country and the keys of the city shall be his. Once more, a 
sincere and cordial welcome.” 

Then to the officers: “Disperse the populace, and two of you 
escort the Honorable Fitz Mee and his companion to their dwelling- 
place, that they may seek the rest they greatly need after so arduous 
a journey.” 

The officers promptly and energetically carried out the orders 
of their chief. 

When Fitz and Bob were alone in the former’s house, the latter 
remarked : 

“Fitz, I believe I’ll like to live in Goblinville.” 

“I— I hope you will, Bob,” was the rather disappointing reply. 

“Hope I will? Don’t you think I will, Fitz?” 

“I don’t know; boys are curious animals.” 

“Well, I think I will. You know you said I could do as I 
pleased here.” 

“Yes.” 

“Say, Fitz?” 

“Well.” 

“How does it come that you goblins speak my language?” 

H7 


The Little Green Goblin 


“We speak any language — all languages.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why, how do you learn so many?” 

“We don’t have to learn ’em; we just know ’em naturally — as 
we know everything else we know at all.” 

“My, that’s great! You don’t have to go to school, nor study, 
nor anything, do you?” 

“No.” 

“I wish I was a goblin.” 

“But you’re not,” laughed Fitz Mee; “and you never will be.” 
“But I’ll be a man some day, and that will be better.” 

“Maybe you will.” 

“Maybe?” 

“You’ll never be a man if you stay in Goblinland.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No.” 

“Won’t I ever grow any?” 

“Not as long as you stay in Goblinland — and eat our kind of 
food.” 

“Well, I’ll get older, and then I’ll be a man, or a goblin, or 
something — won’t I?” 

“You’ll still be a boy.” 


148 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“Pshaw!” Bob pouted. “I don’t like that. You told me I 
could be what I pleased in Goblinland.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Fitz Mee returned quietly but firmly. “I told 
you that in our country boys — meaning goblin boys, of course — were 
compelled to do what pleased them and were not permitted to do 
what pleased others. That law or custom is still in effect; and y#u, 
as a human boy, will be subject to it.” 

“And I can do anything that pleases me?” 

“You can’t do anything else.” 

“Good!” Bob shouted gleefully. “I guess I’ll like Goblinland 
all right; and I don’t care if I do stay a boy. Am I the first human 
boy that ever got into your country, Fitz?” 

“You’re the first human being of any kind that ever set foot in 
Goblinland.” 

“Is that so? Well, I’ll try not to make your people sorry you 
brought me here, Fitz.” 

“That’s all right, Bob,” his companion made reply, a little de- 
jectedly, the boy thought. “And what would you like to do first — 
now that you are in a land that is absolutely new to you?” 

“Fitz, I’d like to take a good long sleep.” 

“That would please you?” 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“More than anything else, for the present?” 


149 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Yes.” 

“All right. Off to bed you go. You’ll find a couch in the next 
room. Go in there and tumble down.” 

“I will pretty soon.” 

“But you must go now.” 

“Must go now? Why?” 

“Because it’s the law in Goblinland that a boy shall do what he 
pleases — and at once.” 

“Well, I won’t go to bed till I get ready, Fitz.” 

“You don’t mean to defy the law, do you, Bob?” 

“Doggone such an old law!” the lad muttered peevishly. 

Fitz Mee giggled and held his sides and rocked to and fro. 

“What’s the matter of you, anyhow?” Bob cried crossly. 

His comrade continued to laugh, his knees drawn up to his chin, 
his fat face convulsed. 

“Old Giggle-box!” the boy stormed. “Y r ou think you’re smart 
— making fun of me.” 

Fitz Mee grew grave at once. 

“Bob,” he said soberly, “you’ll get into trouble, and you’ll get 
me into trouble.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Go to bed at once, that’s a good boy.” 

“I won’t do it.” 


The Little Green Goblin 

Just then the outer door opened and a uniformed officer stepped 
into the room. 

“His honor, the mayor, begs me to say,” he gravely announced, 
“that as Master Robert Taylor has said that he would be pleased to 
sleep, he must go to sleep — and at once. His 
honor trusts that Master Taylor will respect 
and obey the law of the land, without fur- 
ther warning.” 

The officer bowed and turned 
and left the 1 

“Well, I i 
Bob g a s p e ' 
pletely taken 
“What kind 
country is 
how?” 

F i t z 
Mee tumbled 
to the floor, 
and rolled and roared. 

The ludicrousness of the situation appealed to the fun-loving 
Bob, and he joined in his companion’s merriment. Together they 
wallowed and kicked upon the floor, prodding each other in the ribs 



The Little Green Goblin 


and indulging in other rude antics indicative of their exuberant glee. 

When they had their laugh out Bob remarked: 

“Well, I’ll go to bed, Fitz, just to obey the law; but I don’t 
suppose I can snooze a bit.” 

Contrary to his expectations, however, the lad, really wearier 
than he realized, soon fell asleep. He slept through the day and 
far into the hours of darkness; and it was almost dawn of the next 
day when he awoke. He quietly arose and began to inspect his sur- 
roundings. A soft white radiance flooded the room. He drew aside 
the window-blind and peeped out. Darkness reigned, but bright 
lights twinkled here and there. He dropped the blind and again 
turned his attention to the things within. 

“I wonder if Fitz is awake,” he mumbled ; “I’m hungry. I sup- 
pose he slept on the couch in the next room. I wonder where all 
this brightness comes from; I don’t see a lamp of any kind. Huh! 
It comes from that funny little black thing on the stand there. What 
kind of lamp can it be — hey?” 

He walked over and looked at the strange object — a small per- 
forated cone, from the many holes of which the white light streamed. 
Noticing a projecting button near the top of the black cone, he made 
bold to touch it and give it a slight turn. Instantly the holes had 
closed and the room was in darkness. He turned the button back 
again ; and the holes were open and the room was light as day. 

152 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

“Well, that beats me!” muttered Bob. “It looks like an electric 
light; but I don’t see any wires. There aren’t any wires. I must 
find Fitz and learn about this thing.” 

He peeped into the adjoining room, which was in darkness, and 
called: 

“Fitz! Oh, Fitz! Are you asleep, Fitz?” 

“Huh?” was the startled reply. “Yes— no, I guess so — I guess 
not, I mean.” 

Bob laughed. 

“Well, get up and come in here,” he said. 

“Why, it isn’t morning yet,” the goblin objected. 

“I’ve had my sleep out, anyhow.” 

“I haven’t.” 

“Well, get up and come in here, won’t you?” 

“I suppose I might as well,” grumbled Fitz; “you won’t let me 
sleep any more.” 

Then, appearing in the doorway and rubbing his pop eyes and 
blinking: “Now, what do you want?” 

“First, I want to know what kind of a light this is,” indicating 
the little black cone. 

“Why, it’s an electric light, of course,” Fitz Mee made answer, 
in a tone that showed his wonder and surprise that Bob should ask 
such a question. 


153 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I don’t see how it can be, I don't see any wires.” 

“Wires?” chuckled Fitz. “We don’t need any wires.” 

“Well, where does the electricity come from, then?” 

“From the bug under the cone.” 

“The bug?” 

“Yes, the electric firefly. Didn’t you ever see one?” 

Bob shook his head — half in negation, half in incredulity. 

“Well, I guess they’re peculiar to Goblinland, then,” Fitz went 
on, grinning impishly. “We raise them here by thousands and use 
them for lighting purposes. The electric firefly is a great bug. 
Like the electric eel, it gives one a shock if he touches it; and like 
the ordinary firefly, it sheds light — but electric light, and very bright. 
I’ll show you ” He gingerly lifted the perforated cone. 

There lay a bug, sure enough, a bug about the size of a hickory- 
nut, and so scintillant, so bright, that the eye could hardly gaze 
upon it. 

“And this is the only kind of light you have in Goblinland, 
Fitz?” the boy asked. 

“Yes. We light our houses, our streets, our factories, our mines, 
everything with them.” 

“Wonderful!” Bob exclaimed. “And what do you do for fire, 
for heat?” 

“We don’t need heat for our dwellings. Owing to the fact that 

154 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


our country is protected from all cold winds by the high cliffs around 
it, and that the earth crust is thin over the fires of the volcano below, 
the temperature remains about eighty the year round. Then, we 
don’t cook any crude, nasty food, as you humans do; so — ” 

“No, you live on pills,” Bob interjected, in a tone of scorn and 
disgust. “Bah!” 

“So,” Fitz Mee went on smoothly, unheeding his comrade’s 
splenetic interruption, “all we need heat for is in running our fac- 
tories. For that we bore down to the internal fire of the earth.” 

“Well — well !” Bob ejaculated. “You do?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, where are your factories, Fitz? I didn’t see anything 
that looked like factories when we got out of the balloon.” 

“They’re all in caverns hewed in the cliffs.” 

“And the fire you use comes from ’way down in the ground?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you light your factories with electric fireflies?” 

The goblin gravely nodded. Bob was thoughtfully silent for a 
moment; then he remarked: 

“It must be awfully hot work in your factories — the men shut 
up in caves, and no fresh air.” 

“We have plenty of fresh air in our works,” Fitz hastened to 
make plain; “we have large funnel-shaped tubes running up to the 

155 


The Little Green Goblin 


mountain-tops. The cold wind pours down through them, and we 
can turn it on or off at our pleasure.” 

“Say!” Bob cried. 

“What?” queried his companion. 

“I’d like to go through your factories.” 

“You mean what you say, Bob?” 

“Mean what I say?” said Bob, in surprise bordering on indig- 
nation. “Of course I do.” 

“That you’d like to go through our factories?” 

“Certainly. Why not?” 

“When do you want to make the — the experiment — the effort?” 

“To-day — right away, soon as we’ve had something to eat.” 

“All right, Bob,” — with a smile and a shake of the head, — 
“but—” 

“But what?” 

“Nothing. We’ll have breakfast and be off. It’s coming day- 
light, and the factories will be running full blast in an hour from 
now.” 

“More pills for breakfast, I reckon,” Bob grumbled surlily. 

“More tablets and pellets,” Fitz Mee grinned, rubbing his hands 
together and rolling his pop eyes. 

“Huh!” the boy grunted ungraciously. “I wish you folks 


The Little Green Goblin 


cooked and ate food like civilized people. I’m getting tired of noth- 
ing but pills. I can’t stand it very long — that’s all.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” the goblin said, consolingly. 

“Used to it!” the boy snorted angrily. “Yes, I’ll get used to it 
like the old man’s cow got used to living on sawdust; about the time 
she was getting used to it she died.” But he accepted the pellets 
and tablets his companion offered him, and meekly swallowed them. 
Then they caught up their caps and left the house. 


157 





CHAPTER XI 


IN THE LAND WHERE YOU DO AS YOU PLEASE 

OB and his comrade went straight to the mayor’s 
office; and to that august official Fitz Mee 
said: 

“Your honor, Master Taylor wishes to go 
through our factories.” 

“So I’ve heard,” the mayor answered 
grimly, “but could hardly credit my ears.” Then to Bob: “Mas- 
ter Taylor, is this true that I hear: that you desire to go through 
our factories?” 

“Yes, sir,” Bob replied respectfully but sturdily, rather won- 
dering, however, why such an ado should be made over so small a 
matter. 

“Very well, Fitz Mee,” said the mayor to that worthy, “I’ll 
depend upon you to see that Master Taylor goes through our fac- 
tories; and I’ll hold you responsible for any trouble that may arise. 
Here’s your permit.” 

When the two were out of the mayor’s presence and on their 
way to the factories, Bob remarked: 

159 



The Little Green Goblin 


“Fitz, how did the mayor learn that I want to go througn your 
machine-shops and places?” 

“He heard us talking.” 

“Heard us talking?” 

“Yes. There’s a wireless telephone instrument in the room 
where we were, an automatic one that catches every sound.” 

“Oh!” 

“Yes.” 

“And what did the mayor mean by saying he‘d hold you re- 
sponsible for any trouble that might arise?” 

“Oh, nothing — nothing!” Fitz Mee answered hastily and 
grumpily. 

The boy questioned his companion no further, and soon they 
crossed one of the picturesque bridges spanning the brook, ascended 
a long, gentle slope to the base of the black cliffs, and stood before 
a wide, nail-studded door. To the officers on guard Fitz Mee pre- 
sented the mayor’s permit. The guard deliberately and carefully 
read the slip of paper, then he lifted his brows, drew down the cor- 
ners of his mouth and grunted pompously: 

“Fitz Mee, you’re aware of the import of this official document, 
are you?” 

Fitz Mee nodded gravely, grimly, and Bob looked from one to 
the other in silent wonder. 

160 



Bob and his comrade went straight to the mayor's office 






The Little Green Goblin 


The guard went on: “This permit of his honor, the mayor,, 
says that not onlv is Master Robert Taylor, the friend and comrade 
of the honorable Fitz Mee, hereby permitted to go through our fac- 
tories, but by the same token is compelled to go through 
them, this being his expressed desire and pleasure; and 
that the honorable Fitz Mee shall be held responsible for 
any trouble that may thereby arise. That’s all right, is 
it, Fitz Mee?” 

“It’s all right,” Fitz Mee muttered sullenly, but 
determinedly. 

“Pass in,” said the officer, unbolt- 
ing the door and dragging it open. 

As soon as the two had stepped 
over the sill, the door was slammed 
shut behind them, and Bob heard the great 
bolts shot into place — and shuddered in 
spite of himself. On each side of him 
were smooth, solid walls of rock; ahead of 
him stretched a dusky corridor dimly lighted 
with electric fireflies suspended here and 
there. The dull rumble of distant machin- 
ery came to his ears; the faint smell of smoke and sulphurous fumes 
greeted him. 

161 



The Little Green Goblin 


“Fitz?” the lad said to his comrade, who stood silent at his side. 

The goblin simply gave the speaker a look in reply. 

“Fitz,.” Bob continued, “what’s the meaning of all this talk 
about my going through the factories? What’s the matter, any- 
how?” 

“Nothing — nothing!” Fitz murmured hoarsely, shiftily gazing 
here and there. 

“Yes, there is,” the boy insisted. “Why do you all emphasize 
the word ‘through’?” 

“Why — why,” Fitz stammered, rubbing his nose and blinking 
his pop eyes, “we thought maybe you didn’t mean that you desired to 
go through the factories; thought maybe you meant you desired to go 
partly through only — just wanted to see some of the things.” 

“No,” Bob hastily made reply, “I want to go through; I want 
to see everything. Understand?” 

Fitz nodded. 

“Well, come on, then,” he said; “we’ve got to be moving.” 

As they went along the corridor, Bob became aware of doors 
ahead opening to right and left. He saw the flash of flames and 
heard the whirr of wheels and the hubbub of hammers. 

“This room to the right,” said Fitz Mee, “is the machine-shop; 
that on the left is the forging-room.” 

They visited each in turn, and the lad was delighted with all he 

162 


saw. 


The Little Green Goblin 

“He! he!” he laughed when they were again out in the corridor 
and free from the thunder and crash and din that had almost deafened 
them. “The idea, Fitz, of me not wanting to go through your fac- 
tories; of not wanting to see everything! You bet I want to go 
through! You thought I’d be afraid — that’s what you thought; and 
the mayor, too. But I’ll show you; I’m no baby — not much!” 

His companion grinned impishly, but made no reply. 

The next place they entered was the great moulding-room. 
Open cupolas were pouring forth white-hot streams of molten metal, 
which half-nude and sweaty, grimy goblins were catching in ladles 
and bearing here and there. The temperature of the room was al- 
most unbearable; the atmosphere was poisonous with sulphurous 
gases. Bob crossed the threshold and stopped. 

“Come on,” commanded his companion; “we must hurry along, 
or we won’t get through to-day.” 

“I — I don’t believe I care to go through here,” Bob said hesi- 
tatingly. 

“Why?” Fitz Mee jerked out. 

“It’s so awful hot and smelly,” the boy explained; “and I’m— 
I’m a little afraid of all that hot metal.” 

“No matter; you must go through here.” 

“I must ?” Bob cried indignantly. 

“Certainly. You said you’d be pleased to go through our fac- 

163 


The Little Green Goblin 


tories; so now you must go through — through every apartment 
Boys in Goblinville, you know, must do what pleases ’em.” 

“But it doesn’t please me to go through this fiery furnace, Fitz.” 

“Well, boys ’re not allowed to change their minds every few 
minutes in Goblinville. Come on.” 

“I won’t!” Bob said obstinately. 

“You’ll get into trouble, Bob.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“And you’ll get me into trouble.” 

“You into trouble? How?” 

“You heard what the mayor said, didn’t you?” 

“Y-e-s.” 

“Well?” 

“Well, I’ll go through for your sake, Fitz; but I don’t want to. 
It is a fool law or custom — or whatever it is — that won’t let a fellow 
change his mind once in a while, when he feels like it! A great 
way that is to let a boy do what he pleases! But lead on.” 

They sauntered through the moulding-room, Bob trembling and 
dodging and blinking, and out into the corridor again. 

“Mercy!” the urchin exclaimed, inhaling a deep breath of re- 
lief. “I don’t want any more of that! I’m all in a sweat and a 
tremble ; I was afraid all the time some of that hot metal would splash 
on me.” 

164 


The Little Green Goblin 


“It does splash on the workers at times,” Fitz Mee observed 
quietly. 

Not heeding his companion’s remark, Bob continued: “And 
my lungs feel all stuffy. I couldn’t stand such a hot and smelly place 
more than a few minutes.” 

“How do you suppose the moulders stand it for ten hours a 
day?” Fitz asked. 

“I don’t see how they do — and I don’t see why they do,” the boy 
replied. 

“You don’t see why they do?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“For the same reason workmen stand disagreeable and danger- 
ous kinds of work in your country, Bob; to earn a living.” 

“I wouldn’t do it,” the boy declared loftily. 

“You might have to, were you a grown man or goblin.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t. My papa doesn’t have to do anything of the 
kind.” 

“Your father’s a physician, isn’t he?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, doesn’t he miss meals, and lose sleep, and worry over 
his patients, and work sometimes for weeks at a time without rest 
or peace of mind?” 

“Yes, he does.” 


The Little Grem Goblin 


“But you’d rather do that than be a common laborer for eight 
or ten hours a day, would you?” 

“I — I don’t know; I’d rather just be a boy and have fun all the 
time. And I guess I’ve seen enough of your factories, Fitz; I want 
to get out into the fresh air and sunshine again.” 

“You must go on through,” the goblin answered, quietly but 
positively. 

“Well, have we seen nearly all there is to see?” 

“No, we’ve just begun; we haven’t seen one-tenth part yet.” 

“Oh, dear!” Bob groaned. “I never can stand it, Fitz; it’ll take 
us all day.” 

“Yes,” the goblin nodded. 

“Well, I tell you I can’t stand it.” 

“But you must; it was your choice.” 

“Choice!” angrily. “I didn’t know what it would be like.” v 

“You shouldn’t have chosen so rashly. Come on.” 

Bob demurred and pleaded, and whimpered a little, it must be 
confessed; but his guide was inexorable. 

It is not necessary to enter into details in regard to all the boy 
saw, experienced and learned. Let it suffice to say that at three 
o’clock that afternoon he was completely worn out with strenuous 
sight-seeing. The grating, rumbling, thundering sounds had made 
his head ache; the sights and smells had made his heart sick. He 

1 66 


The Little Green Goblin 

had seen goblins, goblins, goblins — goblins sooty and grimed, goblins 
wizened and old before their time; goblins grinding out their lives 
in the cutlery factory; goblins inhaling poisonous fumes in the chem- 
ical works; goblins, like beasts of burden, staggering under heavy 
loads; goblins doing this thing, that thing and the other thing, that 
played havoc with their health and shortened their lives. And he 
was disgusted — nauseated with it all! 

“Oh, Fitz!” he groaned. “I can’t go another step; I can’t stand 
it to see any more! I thought it would be pleasant; but — oh, dear!” 

“Sit down here and rest a minute,” Fitz Mee said, not unkindly, 
indicating a rough bench against the wall of the corridor. “Now, 
why can’t you bear to see any more?” 

“Oh, it’s so awful!” the boy moaned. “I can’t bear to see ’em 
toiling and suffering, to see ’em so dirty and wretched.” 

The goblin laughed outright. 

“Bob, you’re a precious donkey!” he cried. “True, the work- 
ers in the factories toil hard at dirty work — work that shortens their 
lives in some cases; but they’re inured to it, and they don’t mind it 
as much as you think. And what would you? All labor is hard, if 
one but thinks so; there are no soft snaps, if one does his duty. It’s 
the way of the goblin world, and it’s the way of the human world. 
All must labor, all must suffer more or less; there’s no escape for 
the highest or the lowest. And work has its compensation, has its 
reward; it — ” j5 7 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Oh, shut up!” the lad muttered petulantly. “I don’t want to 
hear any more. You talk just like my papa does. I wish I’d never 
been born, if I’ve got to grow up and work. So there!” 

“You’ll never grow up, if you stay in Goblinville, Bob,” Fitz 
Mee said softly; but his pop eyes were twinkling humorously. 
“And you won’t have to work — not much, anyhow.” 

Bob sat soberly silent; evidently he was doing some deep think- 
ing. 

The goblin went on: “If you’re rested now, we’ll resume our 
sight-seeing.” 

“I don’t want to see any more,” the lad grunted pugnaciously; 
“and I’m not going to, either.” 

“Yes, come on.” 

“I won’t do it.” 

“Please do, Bob.” 

“I won’t, I say.” 

“You’ll get us both into trouble.” 

“I don’t care if I do.” 

“They’ll send us to prison.” 

“What!” 

“They will,” 

“Who will?” 

“The mayor and his officers.” 

t68 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Send us both?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” bristling, “I guess they won’t send me — the old med- 
dlers! They won’t dare to; I’m not a citizen of this country.” 

“That won’t make any difference, Bob.” 

“It will too. If they send me to prison, the people of my coun- 
try will come over here and — and lick ’em out of their boots. Now!” 

Fitz Mee bent double and stamped about the floor, laughing till 
the tears ran down his fat cheeks. But suddenly he sobered and said: 

“Come on, Bob; you’ve got to.” 

“I won’t!” the boy declared perversely. “I don't have to.” 

The goblin made no further plea; but placing a silver whistle 
to his lips blew a sharp blast. In answer, a squad of officers stepped 
from the shadows. 

“What’s wanted, Fitz Mee?” said the leader. 

“This boy flatly refuses to obey the law, to go on through the 
factories, as he stated would please him.” 

“Boy, is this true?” demanded the officer. 

“Yes, it is,” Bob confessed fearlessly, shamelessly. 

“Fitz Mee, he confesses,” muttered the officer. “What would 
you have me do?” 

“Take him and carry him through,” Fitz Mee said icily. 

“Very well,” answered the officer. “But if we do that we take 

169 


The Little Green Goblin 


the case out of your hands, Fitz Mee. And in order to make a satis- 
factory report to the mayor, we’ll have to carry him through all the 
factories — those he has already visited as well as those he has not.” 

“Yes, that’s true,” Fitz nodded. 

“What’s that?” Bob cried, keenly con- 
cerned. 

The officer gravely repeated his statement. 
“Oh, nonsense!” the boy exclaimed. “You 
fellows go away and quit bothering me. I 
never saw such a country! A fine place for 
a boy to do as he pleases, surely! Come on, 
Fitz.” 

All the goblins laughed heartily, and Bob 
disrespectfully made faces at them, to their 
increased amusement. 

When the two comrades had made their 
round of the factories, and were out in the 
fresh air again, the boy murmured meekly, 
a sob in his throat: 

‘Fitz, I’m tired — I’m sick of it all! I wish I 
hadn’t come here, I — I wish I was back home again.” 

“What!” his companion cried in assumed surprise. 

“I do!” 



170 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Back home, and be compelled to obey your elders — your par- 
ents and your teachers?” Fitz Mee said, grinning and winking imp- 
ishly. 

“Well,” — pettishly, — “it wouldn’t be any worse than being com- 
pelled to obey a lot of fool officers, anyhow.” 

“You’re just compelled to do what pleases you, just as I told 
you,” Fitz Mee explained smoothly. 

“Oh, do shut up!” the lad pouted. 

“You’re out of sorts,” the goblin giggled; “you’re hungry — you 
need some food tablets.” 

“Bah!” Bob gagged. “Pills! I can’t swallow any more of ’em 
— I just can’t! Oh, I wish I had a good supper like mother cooks!” 

Fitz Mee threw himself prone and kicked and pounded the 
earth, laughing and whooping boisterously; and Bob stood and 
stared at him, in silent disapproval and disgust. 








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CHAPTER XII 

BEFORE THE MAYOR OF GOBLINLAND 

S the days passed Bob became more and more 
disgruntled, more and more dissatisfied with 
things in Goblinville. The bare thought of 
food-tablets and drink-pellets disgusted and 
nauseated him; and he could hardly swallow 
them at all. The young goblins would not, could not, play the games 
he liked to play. They were too small for one reason; and, then, 
as it did not please them to do so, they were not permitted to do so. 
And the boy was without youthful companionship. The only asso- 
ciates he had were his faithful companion Fitz Mee and the officers 
of the town, who were always at his elbow to see that he did what 
pleased him. This constant espionage became simply unbearable; 
and the lad grew peevish, gloomy, desperate. At last he broke 
down and tearfully confessed to his comrade: 

“Fitz, I want to go back home ; I do — I do ! I can’t stand it here 
any longer. It isn’t at all what I thought it would be like; and I’m 
homesick!” 

Fitz Mee did not laugh; he did not smile, even. On the con- 
trary he looked very grave — and a little sad. 

173 



The Little Green Goblin 

“So you’re homesick, Bob — eh?” he said. 

“Yes, I am, Fitz.” 

“And you desire to go home?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“You don’t like things here in Goblinville?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“What is it you object to?” 

“Oh, everything!” 

“But especially?” 

“Well, the — the pills, I guess.” 

“Oh!” joyfully. “Is that all, Bob? We can fix that all right. 
I’ll get a special permit from the mayor — he’s a political friend of 
mine, — to let me prepare you food like you’ve been accustomed to. 
Then you’ll be as happy as a clam, won’t you?” 

“I — I don’t hardly know, Fitz ; no, I don’t think I will.” 

“What!” 

“Uk-uh.” 

“Well, what else is wrong, then?” 

The goblin’s pop eyes were dancing with mischief. 

“I don’t like to be compelled to do what pleases me,” Bob con- 
fessed shamefacedly. 

“Ho, ho!” laughed Fitz Mee. 

“Oh, you can laugh !” the boy cried, in weak irritation. “But 
I don’t!” 


174 


The Little Green Goblin 

“You said it would just suit you, Bob — before you came here/’ 
Fitz chuckled hoarsely, holding his sides and rocking to and fro. 

“I know I did; but I’d never tried it.” 

“And you don’t like it?” 

“No, indeed,” Bob answered very earnestly. 

“And you’re homesick, and want to go home?” 

The boy nodded, his eyes downcast. 

“All the goblins ’ll laugh at you, if you go to leave Goblin- 
ville.” 

“Well, let ’em; I don’t care.” 

“And your people and your schoolmates will laugh at you, when 
you return home.” 

Bob was silent, deeply pondering. 

“Don’t you care?” Fitz Mee asked, cackling explosively. 

“Yes, I do! But I’ve got to go, anyhow; I’ll die here.” 

“Oh, no, you won’t, Bob,” said the goblin, teasingly. 

“I will, too,” said Bob, desperately in earnest; “I know.” 
“You’ll have to go to school, if you return home.” 

“I don’t mind that; I’ll have other boys to play with, anyhow.” 
“Yes, but you’ll have to obey the teacher.” 

“I know.” 

“And you’ll have to do what pleases your parents.” 

“I know that, too.” 


175 


The Little Green Goblin 


“And you won’t be permitted to do what pleases yourself.” 

“I know; I’ve thought it all over, Fitz.” 

“And yet you wish to return home?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

Fitz Mee laughed gleefully, uproariously, irrationally, laughed 
till the tears coursed down his cheeks and his fat features were all 
a-quiver. 

“Ho,, ho!” he gasped at last. “Roberty-Boberty, you’re not the 
same boy you were, not at all ; you’re not half as high and mighty. 
What’s come over you, hey?” 

“I’ve — I’ve learned something, I — I guess, Fitz.” 

“Oh, you have!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not going to say,” replied Bob, grinning sheepishly; “but 
I think I know what you brought me to Goblinland for.” 

“What for?” 

“W-e-11, to — to teach me what I’ve learned. Didn’t you?” 

“I’m not going to say,” mimicked the goblin. 

Then both tittered. 

“And you’re bound to go back home, Bob?” Fitz pursued. 

The boy nodded. 


176 



(( 


If you’re rested now, we’ll resume our sight-seeing.” (See page 1 68 .) 





The Little Green Goblin 


“You’re a pretty looking thing to go back to Yankeeland — a lit- 
tle mite of a human like you!” sneeringly. 

“Oh, Fitz!” the lad wailed. “Can’t I be made a real boy 
again?” 

The goblin impressively shook his head. 

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “You see you’ve taken so many 
gob-tabs it’s very doubtful whether you can be changed back into a 
boy at all.” 

“Oh, Fitz, don’t say that!” — greatly distressed. 

“Of course, if you were put on human diet for a long time, you 
might come out all right,” — reflectively. 

“But can’t I take something that will change me quick — right 
away?” 

Again the goblin shook his head. 

“I doubt it,” he murmured. “Giant-tabs would make a giant 
of you ; and you don’t want to be a giant.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Well, I guess, then, if you want to go back home right away, 
you’ll have to go just as you are.” 

“Oh, Fitz!” almost blubbering. “I don’t want to go back home 
this way; I just can’t! Can’t you give me something that will — 
will stretch me and swell me to boy size — just to boy size? Can’t 
you— can’t you?” 


17 7 


The Little Green Goblin 


“I don’t know,” — with a gloomy shake of the head; “I never 
heard of such a drug or chemical, but it’s barely possible our chemists 
may know of something of the kind. I’ll see about it. But here’s a 
difficulty.” 

“What? What, Fitz?” 

“Why, as you know, there’s no means of getting out of Goblin- 
land except by balloon; and I doubt if my balloon will carry you at 
full and normal weight.” 

“But can’t you get a bigger one?” 

“I might have one made; I don’t — ” 

“Oh, no — no, Fitz!” the boy interrupted frantically. “Don’t 
think of doing that; I can’t wait. Can’t you borrow a bigger one?” 

“There are no bigger ones, except the mayor’s state balloon. 
It has two feather beds lashed together for a bag, and a very large 
car.” 

“Can’t you get it — can’t you get it, Fitz?” 

“I don’t know, indeed. Then, here’s another difficulty, Bob, 
and a greater one to my mind.” 

“Oh, Fitz!” the boy moaned, wringing his hands. “You don’t 
mean it!” 

“Yes, I do,” said the goblin, nodding gravely; but his twinkling 
pop eyes belied his words. “You see, Bob, you’re the first human 
being that has ever come to Goblinland. Now, the secrets of the 

178 


The Tittle Green Goblin 


country— including the secret of its whereabouts, have always been 
carefully guarded. I don’t know what his honor, the mayor, will 
say about letting you go.” 

“I won’t tell anything, Fitz, I won’t — I won’t!” 

“Not a thing?” questioned Fitz Mee. 

“No, sir — not a thing.” 

“W-e-11, I — I don’t know. What will you do, Bob, if the mayor 
won’t let you go back home?” 

“I’ll just die — that’s what!” 

The goblin slapped his thin thighs and laughed and whooped, 
and laughed some more. 

Out of patience, the lad screamed: “Laugh! Laugh till you 
burst, you old Convulsions! You old Spasms! You old Hysterics! 
Yeah! Yeah!” 

And Fitz Mee did laugh — till he was entirely out of breath and 
panting and wheezing like a bellows. When at last he had regained 
control of himself, he whispered brokenly: 

“Bob, we’ll — we’ll go and see — the mayor.” 

And they caught up their caps and were off. 

“So you wish to go home, boy — eh?” said the mayor, the au- 
gust ruler of Goblinville and all adjacent territory, as soon as the 
two were ushered into his presence. 


179 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Yes, sir,” Bob answered humbly. Then, with boyish inquisi- 
tiveness : “But how did you know it?” 

“Never mind,” was the gruff reply. “It will please you to re- 
turn home will it?” 

“Yes, sir, indeed it will.” 

“Then you must go. Be off at once.” 

“But — but — ” Bob began. 

“I’ll fix all that,” his honor interrupted, quickly divining what 
the boy meant to say. “I’m as anxious to be rid of you as you are 
to be gone. You’ve stirred up a pretty rumpus here — you have. 
You’re the first human boy that ever came into my domain ; and you’ll 
be the last. But I trust your experience has done you good — eh?” 

Bob nodded. 

“Very well, then. Sign this pledge that you won’t reveal what 
you’ve seen and learned, and that you’ll take ffie lesson to heart.” 

Bob gladly signed the pledge. 

“Now,” continued the mayor, his eyes snapping humorously, 
“these are the conditions under which you must leave my domain: 
I’ll call in the chemists and have them restore you to normal size; 
I’ve already communicated with them, and they assure me they 
can do it. Then I’ll let the honorable and worthy Fitz Mee take my 
state balloon and carry you back to Yankeeland. You will set out 
this afternoon at one o’clock. But one other thing I exact: you 

180 


The Little Green Goblin 

must bear nothing away with you that you did not bring here with 
you.” And the mayor gave the boy a keen, meaningful look that 
the urchin could not interpret. 

The chemists came in, three aged and be- 
whiskered goblins wearing long, black robes and 
silk skull caps. 

“My good chemists,” said the may- 
or, “are you ready for the experi- 
ment?” 

“All ready, your honor,” the eld- 
est of the three made answer, bow- 
ing profoundly. 

“To work, then,” the mayor 
commanded. 

The younger two ad- 
vanced and caught 
and held Bob’s hands, 
their fingers upon his 
pulse. The eldest produced a tiny phial of thick, opalescent liquid. 

> “Put out your tongue,” he said to the boy. 

The lad unhesitatingly obeyed, and the aged and trembling 
chemist let a drop of the viscid liquid fall upon the tip of the young- 
ster’s quivering organ of speech. 

181 



The L ittle Green Goblin 


The effect was instantaneous and startling, if not marvelous. 
Bob let out a mad bellow of pain, shaking his head and writhing and 
drooling. The mayor changed countenance and deprecatingly 
shook his head. Fitz Mee groaned aloud. 

“Draw in your tongue and shut your mouth and swallow!” the 
three savants simultaneously yelled at the boy. 

Bob reluctantly did as he was told; and immediately, instan- 
taneously he was restored to normal size. 

“Whoopee!” shouted the chemists^ embracing one another and 
indulging in mad capers and other manifestations of insane joy. “A 
success! A complete success!” 

“Thank goodness!” murmured Fitz Mee. “A success!” 

“Yes,” the mayor muttered drily, grimly, “a remarkable suc- 
cess — a too remarkable success! My good chemists, destroy what 
you have left of that stuff, and make no more at your peril. I’m not 
going to have any more boys manufactured in this country — a noisy, 
disturbing lot! You hear me!” Then to Fitz Mee: “You take 
your departure from the public square at one o’clock, remember. 
The state balloon will be there in readiness. You’re excused.” 

When the two comrades were again at Fitz Mee’s residence, 
Bob remarked ingenuously: 

“Fitz, while you’re getting ready I’m going to gather up some 
of the gold nuggets I saw on the shore of the brook.” 

182 


The Tittle Green Goblin 

Better not, Fitz replied, without looking up from his work. 

“Why?” 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you— that’s all.” 

“Well, why?” 

“They’re not yours.” 

“I know. But you goblins make no use of them ; and it wouldn’t 
be wrong — wouldn’t be stealing, would it?” 

“No,” Fitz Mee mumbled, “it wouldn’t be robbery, exactly. 
But you heard what the mayor said.” 

“What about?” 

“That you weren’t to take anything away with you that you 
didn’t bring here with you.” 

“Yes, I heard him. Is that what he meant?” 

“To be sure.” 

“Well, why does he object to my taking a few old nuggets of 
gold that none of you will use?” said Bob peevishly. 

“For this reason, Bob: you take that gold back to Yankeeland, 
and tell where you got it — ” 

“But I won’t tell where I got it,” the lad interrupted= 

Unheeding, the goblin continued: “And your money-mad peo- 
ple will search out our country and conquer and ruin us.” 

“Oh, pshaw, Fitz!” 

“What I say is true, Bob.” 

183 


The Little Green Goblin 

But Bob was neither convinced nor satisfied, and he resolved 
to have the nuggets at all hazard. Where was the harm? The 
gold was of no value to the goblins; it wQuld be of great value to 
him. And he wouldn’t say a word about where he got it — indeed 
he wouldn’t. He would take it; and no one would be the wiser or 
the poorer. So, while his comrade was busy at other things, he 
slipped out to the brookside and filled his pockets. 

One o’clock came, the time of departure, and all Goblinville, 
including the mayor and his officers, was out to see the aeronauts 
off upon their long voyage. The mayor shook hands with the two 
and wished them God-speed and the populace gave them three hearty 
cheers. 

Then the anchor was weighed, and they were off. Slowly and 
majestically the great state balloon began to ascend. But when it 
had risen a hundred feet, Bob, looking over the side of the car, be- 
came aware of a disturbance in the crowd beneath. He saw goblins 
excitedly running this way and that and a number of officers trun- 
dling a big black object on wheels across the public square. 

“What’s the meaning of the rumpus, Fitz?” the lad cried to his 
companion. “What’s that the officers have?” 

“Why,” Fitz gasped, taking a hurried look beneath, “the officers 
are running out the dynamite gun!” 

“And they’re training it upon our balloon — upon us!” Bob whis- 

184 


The Little Green Goblin 


pered hoarsely, his soul a prey to guilty fear. “What — what can it 
mean, Fitz?” 

Then arose the voice of the mayor, bellowing: 

“Fitz Mee, descend! Come back! That boy can’t leave Gob- 
nnland with his pockets full of gold! He has deceived us; he can’t 
leave Goblinland at all. Come down ; or we’ll send a dynamite shell 
through the balloon-bag, and bring you down in a hurry.” 

Fitz gave a few strokes to the pump, and the big balloon came 
to a stop. Bob sat silent, speechless at the dread result of his rash act. 

“You’ve played the mischief — you have, Bob Taylor!” his com- 
panion snarled angrily, reproachfully. “And you’ll spend the bal- 
ance of your days in Goblinland — that’s what!” 

“Oh, dear!” the boy found voice to moan. “Oh, dear!” 

“Hello!” Fitz called over the side of the car. “Hello, your 
honor!” 

“Hello!” answered the mayor. 

“If I’ll make the boy throw the gold down to you, will that sat- 
isfy you?” 

“No, it won’t!” came the hoarse and determined reply. “Bring 
the young scamp back! He shall stay in Goblinville!” 

“I guess I won’t!” Bob shouted, desperation spurring his cour- 
age. And he sprang to the air-tank and opened the cock. The bal- 
loon began to rise swiftly. 

185 


The Little Green Goblin 


“Oh, Bob — Bob!” Fitz Mee groaned. “What have you done? 
We’ll both be killed!” 

“Boom!” went the dynamite gun; and a shell tore through the 
balloon-bag, rending it asunder and sending goose feathers fluttering 
in all directions. ' 

^ The car began to drop like a plummet. Its occupants let 
out shrill screeches of terror. Then came the proverbial dull, 
sickening thud! Bob felt the empty balloon-bag fall over him 
and envelop him; and then he lost consciousness. 

“Bob, crawl out of there.” 



“Fitz! Fitz!” the boy cried, disentangling himself and strug- 
gling to his feet. 

“Fits!” laughed a big manly voice. “Yes, I guess you’ve got 
’em, Bob ; and you’ve rolled out of bed in one, and dragged the covers 
with you.” 


The Little Green Goblin 


Bob blinked and rubbed his sleepy eyes. There stood his father 
in the doorway, grinning broadly.- 

“Hustle into your clothes, laddie,” he said; “breakfast’s ready.” 



187 
















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